It's the (Most Wonderful) Time of Year
by Indigo-Night-Wisp
Summary: It's Christmas in Bayville, and something nefarious is afoot. A story that has secret societies, love confessions, lurking, trench coats, a Grinch, the misuse and abuse of a well-loved Christmas carol, and too much eggnog, with Remy LeBeau right at the center of it.
1. On The First Day of Christmas

**Disclaimer: "Now is the winter of our discontent…"** _ **Richard III, Act I, scene 1**_

 **A/N: Updates on Thursdays *fingers crossed***

 **Come say hi on tumblr, if y'all want: indigo-night-wisp dot tumblr dot com**

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Chapter 1: December 13

 _On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…_

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Remy LeBeau _loves_ Christmas. It's his favorite time of year. There are good smells in the air and decorations everywhere you look, and the people are nicer, happier, more trusting, and much easier to steal from.

Remy has been informed that this is not a particularly nice sentiment, but he can't help what he is. He's got thieving in his blood. Sort of. He was adopted, so not really, but it's the thought that counts.

Christmas is Remy's favorite time of year for other reasons, though, and many of them involve his _chere_ , the love of his life, she of the glorious hair and disdainful expressions, who grinds his heart beneath her pointy-heeled boots and leaves him begging for more: Rogue. Specifically, the way Rogue looks in snow, pale cheeks flushed and snowflakes clinging to her eyelashes, made-up lips parted in delighted gasps. She looks spectacular in green and red, and it just so happens that Professor Xavier has decided that everyone should wear those colors in the Christmas picture of all the inhabitants of the mansion that he insists they take every year.

Remy doesn't always agree with everything Professor Xavier says, but he has no complaints at all about the man's ideas of a proper Christmas.

Back to Rogue. Remy loves to watch her in the evenings, when there's a fire in the living room of the mansion and she's curled up in pajamas and slippers in the big armchair, squeezed in carefully next to Kitty and sipping hot cocoa.

He also loves the moments when they're hanging Christmas decorations and he can casually shove Bobby out of the way and pick up the slack in the wreath before Rogue notices that her partner has changed. True, she always seems to give him a suspicious look afterwards, but it's worth it for the few seconds that they're standing nearly nose to nose.

Well, nose to chin. Roguey is kind of short.

Besides how amazing Rogue looks at Christmastime, Remy also likes cookies and presents and snow and the warm feeling of being surrounded by family and safety that comes with Christmas at the mansion. It's not that he isn't accepted or loved with his family in New Orleans, but he has to admit, there's something especially nice about the Institute, where everyone is a mutant and he isn't the weird cousin with the freaky eyes. The mansion is home now. The X-Men are his family.

Which is why Remy is understandably annoyed that someone is plotting their doom.

"Well this is annoying," Remy says irritably, rubbing his hand over his forehead.

Todd, the red-headed young stoner that Remy made friends with two years ago while he was staking out the X-Men for Magneto, nods sagely. "Sucks when there's a secret organization dedicated to ruining your life," he says, completely without irony, as far as Remy can tell.

Remy had first met Todd while sitting in this very café, a little place that Rogue and Kitty liked to visit after school. The kid was sipping a small black coffee and staring hungrily at the pastry display case. Remy, being a kind soul, in addition to being extraordinarily good looking and talented in many aspects of life, had bought him one of the scones and plunked it down on the table in front of Todd as he sat down.

(Okay, so actually Remy had stolen the pastry, but who actually cares about the details of the transaction?)

"You're gonna catch flies," he said to the astonished teenager. "Eat your scone and stop staring at Remy."

"You talk about yourself in third person?" the kid asked incredulously, already wolfing down the scone. And so had begun a beautiful friendship. Remy still stops by occasionally to get the underground gossip of Bayville and make sure Todd hasn't starved to death.

The conversation Todd had overheard had taken place in the alleyway next to Todd's apartment. It was a very shady alleyway, because Todd lived in a very shady part of Bayville. In fact, it was exactly the sort of alleyway in which conversations about illegal activities (or occasionally, the illegal activities themselves) take place.

The conversation had gone something like this:

"They're just a bunch of kids."

" _Mutant_ kids. Besides, the boss says they have to go, so we don't argue."

"But –"

"Do you want to tell him that you don't think it's _right_ to subdue the mutant kids?"

The reluctant henchman sounded sulky. "We both know what he means by _subdue_. We aren't talking about any peaceful sit-down here. He wants mutants to study, and he wants us to get them. They aren't doing anything, and he wants us to kidnap kids and give them over to his little team of scientists. Who knows what he's gonna do to them?"

"Why do you care?" his partner said disgustedly. "They're _mutants_. Barely even human. Come on, our smoke break isn't that long. We've got to get back." Their voices faded down the alley and Todd understandably didn't stick his neck out of his window to stare after them. For one thing, his apartment didn't exactly have heat, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to close the window again after opening it. The last thing he heard was the reluctant henchman's grumble, "But it's _Christmas_ …"

"Okay," Remy asks, pinching the bridge of his nose, "so do you actually know who's planning to attack us?"

Todd shakes his head. "Nah, man," he said. "I only know what I heard. I dunno who those guys work for or anything."

Remy pokes himself in the forehead in exasperation. "Can you find out?" he asks. "Remy don't want to put you in danger, but it could be a matter of life and death –"

"Sure, man," Todd agrees easily. "I got a buddy. He's got connections, y' know? He'll know where to ask."

Remy doesn't really want to know what kind of connections any of Todd's friends might have, but he sighs in relief anyway. "Thanks, Todd." He offers the kid a couple of twenty dollar bills. Todd tries to wave it away, but the kid's eyes are hungry and his hands are shaking. Remy feels bad about probably funding his drug habit, but he's got a feeling that the hunger is more pressing than the drugs, so he insists until Todd accepts the money. He ducks his head and Remy reaches out to ruffle his hair.

" _Merci_ , kiddo," he says again. "Keep Remy posted."

Todd rolls his eyes. "You know, that habit of speaking in the third person about yourself is still really weird."

Remy grins. "Merry Christmas," he says.

000

Remy returns to the mansion with a spring in his step that carries him right over the gate before he remembers why that's a bad idea.

"Oops," he says, and then runs.

It's a bad idea because Remy himself had designed the front gate security system after a serious talk with Professor Xavier about how it shouldn't be so easy for someone to enter the grounds. Remy had proved how easy it was by breaking in over and over again. Professor Xavier had finally given in and asked him to make some changes to the system.

"And while you're at it," Xavier had added mildly, "you might as well move into the Institute. I can't imagine you wish to continue lodging with the Brotherhood."

This was true, and also Remy was at the mansion nearly every day anyway, having made friends with most of the students and having fallen in deep, serious adoration of Rogue.

"Besides," said the professor, "you're here nearly every day, anyway." And that was that. Remy moved into the mansion and the security system received a number of upgrades.

Needless to say, simply jumping over the gate is considerably more dangerous than it used to be.

After escaping the giant claws and dodging the lasers focusing all of their power on the (substantial) amount of heat in Remy's body, he makes it back to the gate and punches in his security code, which identifies him as a resident of the mansion and chirps a happy greeting to him as if it hadn't just attempted to blast him to pieces.

Remy is still grumbling about the lasers when he enters the mansion and is smacked in the face with greenery.

"What," he says with his mouth full of pine needles.

"Whoops!" Kitty giggles. "Sorry, Remy!" She moves the huge wreath aside and beams up at him. He smiles back, because Kitty's smiles are infectious and it takes a stronger man than Remy to not return a grin from her.

"Where have you been?" she asks as he grabs the other side of the wreath and helps her lift it onto the front door.

For a split second, Remy considers telling her. After all, a potential threat to the X-Men should be reported, right? But then he looks at her happy face and her holiday joy and can't bring himself to ruin it. Besides, the X-Men are easily mobilized, and if there's any trouble, he's sure that he'll be able to bring them up to speed quickly enough.

"Remy was just meeting a friend," he says vaguely, pulling his trench coat tighter around himself, even though the mansion's foyer is comfortably warm. Kitty looks suspicious but is quickly distracted by Kurt, who teleports into the middle of the hall and looks around wildly.

"Hide me!" he blurts out and dives behind Remy.

"Uhh," says Remy.

Jean storms into the room and puts her hands on her hips. "Kurt, what did I say about those decorations," she says sternly, and then she sees Remy.

"And where have you been?" she snaps, pushing her hair away from her face and glaring at him in frustration.

Remy's eyebrows shoot up and he gives her a lopsided smirk. "Remy been out," he says. Jean scowls.

"I don't know what you're up to," she says, "but I won't have it ruining Christmas. Do you understand me?"

Jean isn't all that bad, really. It's just that she is a perfectionist and a control freak and inclined to suspect Remy every time something goes wrong with her plans.

(This is highly unfair. He only sabotaged _one_ party, and that was entirely by accident.)

"Understood," Remy says. Of course he won't ruin Christmas. What does she take him for? _He_ isn't the one planning to attack them all, is he? That's some other Grinch.

Wounded, Remy retreats to the kitchen, where he's fairly certain he'll find his _chere_ , his _belle femme_ , his –Remy stops that train of thought before it becomes too sappy and enters the kitchen.

Sure enough, Rogue is there, helping Storm and Jubilee cut Santa and reindeer-shaped cookies out of the flat pan of dough sitting on the counter. Jubilee looks up and giggles when she sees Remy. He smiles and shakes his head. The younger girls are all quite smitten with him, which is cute, but Remy's heart belongs to one only. Remy sneaks up behind Rogue and reaches around to steal a lump of sugar cookie dough.

"Remy!" Rogue swats at him with one ungloved hand. He forgets about the dough for a moment, mesmerized by the sight of her pale, smooth skin. It's rare that Rogue takes off her gloves, and Remy soaks up each unguarded moment like a thirsty plant in Roberto's room. That boy never remembers to water his plants, but he insists on keeping about ten of them in his room.

Rogue waves her hand in his face. "Earth to Swamp Rat," she says in amusement. "You in there?"

Remy shakes his head and gives her a hopeful smile. "Remy is always here for you, _chere_." He tilts his head to one side in a way he knows makes him look especially endearing and says, "Maybe you'd like to go for a ride with Remy?" He knows for a fact that his motorcycle is one of his most attractive qualities. Women love his motorcycle.

"Hmm," Rogue says absentmindedly. "Not now. Got cookies to bake, Swamp Rat." She presses the elf-shaped cookie cutter into the dough.

Remy nods sadly. It's no more than he expected. While Rogue is the undisputed love of his life, he is quite sure that she doesn't feel the same way. Two years ago, after their adventure in New Orleans, he'd given her his Queen of Hearts card, hoping that she would understand what he meant by the gesture. And then, during that whole fiasco with Apocalypse, while Roguey was running around stealing everyone's mutations, he could have sworn that she took his by kissing him. That had to mean _something_ , right? She wouldn't just kiss him for no reason.

But ever since Remy joined the X-Men and moved into the mansion, Rogue hasn't mentioned the card or the kiss even once. Every time he tries to flirt with her, she brushes him off or tells him to "stop messing with me, Swamp Rat, I'm not in the mood for your shenanigans!"

If it wasn't for the occasional smiles and the teasing banter she sometimes shares with him, Remy would think that Rogue doesn't even like him.

He turns to leave the kitchen and completely misses Rogue's continued answer. "But I'd love to go later –Remy?"

Remy decides to drown his sorrows in greenery and Christmas cheer and trudges back to the front hall to help with the decorations. Jean is directing tinsel and garlands telekinetically and Scott is waiting to center them perfectly on the banister. Kitty swoops by on one of Bobby's ice slopes, skates attached to her feet and red bows draped around her neck.

"Remy!" she cheers. "Come help me!"

"Uh, how about Remy help put up the Christmas tree?"

"We haven't cut it yet," Scott calls down. "We're going out in a few days, but we want it to stay fresh through Christmas, so we can't get it yet."

"You cut down a new tree every year?" Remy asks incredulously. Kitty giggles and Bobby shoots out some extra ice to carry her over to Remy's side.

"It's tradition," she says, eyes sparkling. "Now, come on. I'm finished with the bows, so you can help me string up the Hanukkah lights!"

Right, Kitty's Jewish. "Uh, okay."

Remy is holding Kitty on his shoulders as she strings brightly colored blinking lights across the windows of the big living room when he hears Jean and Scott.

"We have to make sure we don't serve anything with peanuts tonight," Jean is saying. "Warren is coming to stay for the next couple of weeks, and he's extremely allergic."

"How is Warren doing?" Scott asks, deftly sprinkling fake snow on the window sill.

"I think he's really enjoying his work as an activist for mutant rights," Jean says. She glances over at Scott with a smirk. "He asked about Rogue."

Remy scowls silently. Warren Worthington III, millionaire, debonair, and putting on airs, if you ask Remy. So he's coming for Christmas? Great.

Remy has heard all about Warren with his stupid angel wings and his stupid perfect hair and smile and fancy car and pretty house. Of course, Remy has been in that pretty house before, and it isn't anything special compared to the mansion. One enormous house is just like another, really. The fact that Remy had been there to steal something for Magneto is beside the point.

But Kitty and Jubilee and Amara have told Remy all about how Warren had met the X-Men, several Christmases ago, and how he and Rogue had shared a "special moment." Or two.

Remy is definitely not pouting.

"Stop pouting," Kitty tells him, sliding off of his shoulders and landing neatly beside him. "And stop acting like you're in this big competition with Warren. Rogue isn't a prize to be won, you know."

"Remy knows that," he sulks. "But what if Warren gets here all stupid shiny and Roguey decides that she wants someone to cuddle up to the fire with?"

Kitty rolls her eyes. "Maybe she'll pick you, dummy, ever think of that?"

Remy stares at her disbelievingly. " _Chaton_ , Remy think you've been spending too much time in dusty ol' boxes. Rogue don't even like Remy."

She gapes at him. "What? Remy, are you _serious_?" He just looks at her and she groans. "Oh my god, you _are_."

"What?" Remy asks testily, because he didn't ask for Kitty to start nosing in on his feelings here, okay.

Not that everyone in the mansion (and probably half of Bayville) doesn't already know about his feelings for Rogue, because Remy doesn't exactly do subtle when it comes to his romantic life.

"No," she says, "no, I am not dealing with this right now. I have to go make sure Bobby doesn't break _my great-grandmother's hanukiah_." Bobby jumps guiltily and puts the nine-pronged candle-stick back on the mantle. Kitty huffs and says, "Look, Remy, take it from me. You really don't have to worry about Warren. Trust me."

Remy does trust Kitty, but in matters of the heart, she can be incredibly dense. For instance, she still hasn't figured out that the reason Remy's old Acolyte buddy Piotr Rasputin keeps coming around isn't because he likes Rogue's attempts at stroganoff.

(Piotr, actually, does not like _anyone's_ attempts at stroganoff, because Piotr is a purist, and also a _snob_. Does Remy complain that no one at the Institute can cook as well as his _Tante_ Mattie?

Well, actually.

Never mind.)

Piotr's (massively obvious) crush on Kitty aside, she is also still trying to decide if she wants to end her tempestuous relationship with Lance Alvers once and for all. Remy has tactfully suggested that she break it off and she had promised to think about it very hard. Remy has also less tactfully visited the Brotherhood's dilapidated house and informed Lance that if he wants to keep his chances for future progeny, he will stop trying to convince Kitty to renew their relationship.

Remy's point is, Kitty is not necessarily the best judge of whether or not he should be worrying about Warren Worthington III.

Well, he decides, if Warren is coming to steal Rogue's heart, then there's no way that Remy is going to lie down and let him without a fight. There's only room for one thief in this mansion, and Remy's got the position locked down, thanks very much. If he even has the smallest chance with Rogue, then he's got to try. No more playing around. He has to tell her how he feels, for real. No games. No cards.

Christmas is the time for miracles, right?

000

Warren Worthington III's arrival at the Institute is just as ostentatious as his name, and Remy hates him.

Maybe it's not Warren's fault that he's handsome and rich and has angel wings instead of the devil's eyes, but that doesn't mean Remy has to like it.

"Warren!" Jean welcomes the man with open arms and a bright smile. Scott shakes his hand enthusiastically. Ororo kisses him on the cheek and Professor Xavier beams up at him. Kitty gives him a hug, from Kurt he gets a high-five, and the rest of the students crowd around to shake his hand, ask him questions, and clamor for his attention.

It's worse than when Logan comes home.

 _Much_ worse, because Remy actually likes Logan, as opposed to the definite loathing he feels for the puffed up parakeet currently schmoozing Remy's new family.

When the angel man finally reaches the back of the crowd, Rogue appears, a vision in a dark silk skirt, pale shoulders draped in a purple scarf, elbow length gloves covering her dangerous hands. She extends her hand to Warren with a smile and he bows to kiss the back of her glove. Remy grits his teeth and decides to exit via a conveniently open window.

He sits on the roof in the bitter cold and smokes.

 _Joy to the world_ , he thinks grimly. _Clarence is here for the next two weeks, Rogue still don't love Remy, and there's a Grinch somewhere out there trying to steal Christmas._

He turns his phone back on and checks it. 37 missed calls from:

 _Tante_. _Pére_. Mercy. Belle.

He groans.

"It's the most wonderful time of the year," he sings to himself sarcastically, and then sucks hard on his cigarette.

… _a partridge in a pear tree!_

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 **A/N: This is going to have more plot than I expected…**

 **Additional, No-Longer-A-Spoiler Disclaimer: I do not own Clarence the angel. Or the Grinch. Or Todd, actually…**


	2. On the Second Day of Christmas

**A/N: Look at me, coming in exactly a week later. Thanks to the ever wonderful Wolf, who is a both a great reader and a great friend.**

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Chapter 2: December 14

 _On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…_

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Jean corners Remy by the pistachio bowl. "What are you doing?" she hisses.

Remy pauses with a handful of pistachio nuts halfway to his mouth. "Uh," he says.

Jean glares menacingly. Remy tries to put the nuts in his mouth to buy time, but Jean waves her hand and the nuts fly back into the bowl. Remy sighs sadly. He likes pistachios and now stupid Warren Worthington III is ruining even that.

"I know you're up to something, Remy LeBeau," Jean says. She leans in close as if to intimidate him. It would work except that Remy has seen Jean in pajamas with ducks on them. It was very cute and now whenever she tries to scare him, he just remembers the ducks.

"I'm warning you," Jean continues. "If you mess up our Christmas plans, or embarrass me in front of Warren with some sort of shenanigans, I will make you regret it."

 _How?_ a small part of Remy wonders, interestedly. She wouldn't actually hurt Remy would she? So what is it exactly that she's going to do?

Remy stomps that little voice flat and shoves it into the bayou. The last thing he needs is for Jean to pick up on a stray thought and decide to answer the question.

"Remy would _never_ do something to ruin Christmas," he says instead, indignantly. Excuse you, Miss Jeanie, Remy loves Christmas. He doesn't say anything about Warren.

She narrows her eyes at him. "See that you don't," she says, like a hoity-toity butler on that Down Town show that Rogue pretends not to like.

Jean leaves Remy standing forlornly by the pistachio bowl and goes off to schmooze Warren some more.

Not, Remy thinks darkly, that he hasn't been schmoozed quite enough by Bobby and Kitty and _Rogue_.

This day is not, Remy admits, going exactly as he had hoped.

First, he'd woken up to find that _someone_ had changed the well-established mansion rule that "family breakfast" was at eight in the morning, and if you missed it, there was always food in the kitchen. Nooo, though, Warren Worthington III _always_ eats at 6:30 AM, every day, and we can't just let him eat _alone_. And besides, Choco-Lots are not a healthy breakfast, Remy.

Remy loves his Choco-Lots, and he's not best pleased that someone ate them all this morning.

The second thing that is making this day less than jolly is that Rogue has not spoken to Remy all day. It has been almost twelve hours, and not a word. Remy thinks he might be going into withdrawal.

The third and final thing making Remy's life a misery is Jean Grey's sudden suspicions of nefarious behavior on Remy's part. He is highly offended. And worse, she has Scotty helping her, so every time Remy turns around today, he finds one of them breathing down his neck.

It's making Remy's day plans very difficult.

"What are you doing, Remy?" Scott asks a few hours later, popping up next to Remy like a deranged jack-in-the-box. Remy clutches his cell phone to his chest and immediately wants to kick himself. There is literally no reason to hide what he's doing, so why does he feel like shuffling away and hissing " _My precious_ " at Scott?

"If you must know," he says, "Remy is talking to his _frère_."

Scott takes a moment to translate that and Remy waits patiently.

"Your brother?" Scott confirms. "Why, what's up?"

Remy stares at him. "He's Remy's brother," he says slowly. "Remy likes talking to him. He keeps Remy updated on what's happening in New Orleans. We _like_ each other." I miss him, Remy does not add. Scott doesn't need to know all the mushy bits.

"Oh," says Scott, as though the concept of actually _liking_ your family has never crossed his mind. "Well, why are you talking to him out here?" he looks around Ororo's greenhouse suspiciously, as though he expects Remy to be hiding some kind of dastardly plot in the gardenias.

"Well," Remy says, "there wasn't anyone here," he gives Scott a pointed look, "a minute ago."

Scott, completely missing Remy's pointed look, says, "It's hot up here. Why don't you come down inside? No one will bother you. Especially if you just go to your own room."

Remy considers. He actually had forgotten that he has his own room in the mansion. For some reason, the presence of Warren Worthington III seems to fill the entire Institute, leaving Remy with no recourse but to escape to the very top, where Storm keeps her greenhouse warm and cozy and _private_ , which honestly is what Remy needs when he's conversing with his family.

" _Merci_ , Scotty," he says finally, "but Remy's good up here." He flashes a charming smile. His smile is very charming, and sometimes it even works on Scott. Worth a try, either way.

"Well," Scott says reluctantly, torn between suspicion and loyalty to Jean and a definite sense of propriety that says you can't eavesdrop on someone's private conversation with their family. Remy has never found this to be a practical rule of society, but then again, Remy also doesn't believe that "burglar proofing" is a real thing, so. "Alright then. Come down when you're finished talking then, okay? You shouldn't be all alone all day."

"Sure," Remy waves him away and he goes back downstairs. Scott is trying to catch him off guard, he's sure. Lull Remy into a false sense of security and then catch him in the act of shenanigans. Well, it won't work. Remy just won't play the game.

Pleased with himself and also annoyed with Scott, Remy scowls as he punches his brother's contact picture and holds the phone to his ear.

"Remy?" Henri's voice is warm and happy and Remy feels himself relaxing without even meaning to. His brother's constant insistence that Remy is never an intrusion and never bothering him is a lifeline that has kept Remy from curling up in a ball and refusing to move on more than one bad day since leaving Louisiana. " _Mon frère petite_ , I have missed you so!"

Ah, Henri. Completely unconcerned with his manly image, absolutely secure in his masculinity, and totally devoted to making sure his little brother knows that he is loved, no matter how mushy he has to get in order to do so.

Remy misses him so much it hurts.

"Hi, Henri," he says around the lump in his throat, "how's it going?"

Henri laughs. "Are you asking 'cause you want to know, or 'cause _Tante_ and _Père_ and Mercy won't stop calling you?"

Remy huffs. "Remy wants to know!" he protests. "But…"

Henri laughs again. "Everything is fine. No one hurt, no one sick. They're calling for different reasons."

"And those would be?" Remy asks hopefully. If he can get Henri to tell him, then he can just text Mercy and _Tante_ his answers. _Père_ , he'll have to think of something else. Jean-Luc isn't really getting the hang of texting.

"Not telling," Henri sings. "I won't be calling the wrath of Mercy LeBeau down on me. You'll have to answer the phone."

Remy shudders. "Uh, _merci_ , but Remy think he'll just stay in the dark."

"Your funeral," Henri says.

"Probably," Remy agrees glumly. Below him, he can hear the indistinct shouting and laughing that always pervades the Institute. Everyone is downstairs, together. Sure, Warren Worthington III is down there, but so is Kitty and Rogue and Kurt and even Bobby, who is ridiculous but also a good kid that Remy actually likes.

And Remy is up here alone.

With the gardenias.

"Remy," Henri is saying.

"Yeah?" he answers quietly. His brother's voice is gentle.

"Why did you call? For real?"

Remy closes his eyes and scowls fiercely at the ceiling. "Remy wanted to know what the family keeps calling about."

"Remy."

He swallows. "Miss you," he mumbles. "Miss you, and everybody else. And Rogue won't talk to me. And the partridge is too perfect and someone's coming after the X-Men and Jean is being mean to me and it's not _fair_ because it's _Christmas_." He's whining and he wishes he wasn't, but it's been a rough day already, even though it's only noon.

Henri is quiet for a moment and then he says, "Okay, so all of that is probably real important in your mind, but for me, there's one bit that's just a _little_ more important, so –someone is coming after the X-Men?"

Remy sighs. "My friend Todd overheard some shady characters talking about their boss. Apparently, he wants 'em to kidnap the X-Men for experiments or something like that. And I can't tell anyone."

"Why not?" Henri says sharply. "Remy, in case you forgot, _you're_ an X-Man now, and I ain't having you running around getting kidnapped by crazy scientists."

"I know, Henri," Remy says, plucking a dead leaf from one of the chrysanthemum plants and charging it with energy that crackles and outlines the leaf in pink. "But it's Christmas, and Remy don't have proof. Can't just go around saying that someone is coming to attack us when all Remy has to go on is the word of a kid who may or may not be on drugs."

Henri sighs. "Drugs?" he asks wearily, like he doesn't want to know. Remy shakes his head even though Henri can't see him.

"Probably," he says. "But he's telling the truth, Henri. He's never been high when I see him. He heard what he said."

"Okay," Henri says. "Then, please, be careful, _frère_. And promise me,"

"What?" Remy says.

"Promise me," Henri says firmly, "that you will tell the other X-Men about this. Don't go off by yourself and try to solve it alone. If this is serious, Remy, then you could get in real trouble, and no one is gonna know if you don't tell someone. Promise me."

"I promise," Remy says.

"Good, _merci_ ," Henri says. "And Remy?"

"Yeah?" Remy says, feeling better just for talking to Henri for a few minutes.

"Stop moping. And don't blow up Ms. Ororo's greenhouse." He hangs up and Remy stares at the phone.

"How did –ah!" He sucks all the kinetic energy out of the leaf before it explodes and takes out the south windows.

Loud, raucous laughter that Remy knows is Kitty listening to Rogue do impersonations of Logan floats up from below. Remy stares at the peony an inch from his face and glares.

"Fine," he says to the peony. "Remy will go down and be nice. Happy?"

The peony does look happier. He sticks his tongue out at it and leaves the greenhouse.

000

Jean likes Remy, okay, she really does. He's a good man, a little rough around the edges, but mostly very nice, kindhearted, and an excellent asset to the team. He's easy on the eyes too, but Jean doesn't entertain that thought often. Scott is equally nice to look at, and also isn't head over heels for Rogue.

The point is, Jean doesn't hate Remy. She just isn't stupid. She knows that when someone starts a prank war, or sabotages a training session just for kicks, or causes some kind of general mischief around the mansion, nine times out of ten that someone will be Remy. And frankly, she doesn't want Christmas to turn into some kind of prank fest. She wants Warren to think that they're all mature enough to spend his valuable time with. He's their friend, and she wants him to know that they take that seriously.

Something seems a little skewed about that thought, but Jean doesn't have time to analyze her own brain. She's too busy analyzing Remy's.

"Do you think he'll play a trick on Warren?" she asks Scott worriedly. A few months ago, Remy had offered to show Kurt a card trick that had ended with the card exploding in Kurt's hand. Kurt wasn't hurt at all, and the explosion was very small, but Jean had remembered, and subsequently banned all card tricks inside the mansion.

It was unfortunate that Remy felt singled out by the decree, but Jean was just trying to keep them all safe.

"Jean, I think Remy is feeling a little homesick," Scott says. "I doubt he's planning to do anything at all to Warren."

Jean blinks. Homesick? Remy is homesick? But he is home, why–

"Oh," she says softly. "Oh, poor Remy."

Scott smiles at her. Jean can be obsessive and decisive and ruthless when it comes to getting her way sometimes, but she is also tenderhearted and treats all of the younger mansion residents like she's their big sister.

Remy is not, actually, younger than Jean except for a few months, but Scott knows that Jean still includes him in her protective bubble.

"Why doesn't he go home and see his family?" she asks. "He knows he can leave whenever he wants, right? We aren't trapping him here like Magneto did."

Scott shrugs. "I don't know why he isn't going home. But he was upstairs in the greenhouse talking to his brother and he looked… sad."

Jean's face is determined. "Well, then, he should come join the rest of us. That way he won't be alone, and we'll be able to keep up with whatever mischief he's planning."

"Do you really think he's planning anything?" Scott asks skeptically. Jean gives him a sardonic look.

"Scott, he may be homesick, but his basic personality hasn't changed. You've seen the way he is about Warren. I don't want any pranks this Christmas. No tricks, no unexpected precipitation in someone's bed, no food fights, and nothing set on fire. Remember Thanksgiving?"

Scott shudders as he remembers Thanksgiving.

"Okay," he says, "so we keep our eyes peeled for any sign that Remy is planning something. Good?"

"Good," Jean nods, satisfied. "No problem."

"Jean?"

She spins around and beams at the newcomer. "Warren! What's up?"

Warren rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "I was just wondering if anyone was up for a training session in the Danger Room. It's been a while since I tried out my hand-to-hand skills."

"Sure!" Jean chirped. "Someone's always up for training around here, right guys?" She turns and gives Kurt and Bobby a pointed look. The latter groans.

"Fine," he says. "But if I get knocked in the face with those wings again, I'm freezing the whole thing."

000

Remy joins everyone for dinner and eyes their sweaty faces disgustedly.

"Showers," he says as Kurt sits down beside him.

"What?" Kurt asks, mouth already half-full of bread rolls. Remy rolls his eyes.

"Showers," he repeats. "They don't hurt, Remy promise."

Kurt swallows. "Haha," he says. "We were training in the Danger Room and didn't have time to change before dinner."

"Training?" Remy asks. "Why? Aren't you on vacation for Christmas?"

"Eh," Kurt waves a three-fingered hand, narrowly missing the tip of Remy's nose. "Warren wanted to do some training."

Remy's mood plummets. "Oh. Him." So he has Warren Worthington III to thank for this sweat-ridden meal. Fantastic. "That's… nice."

"Yeah." Kurt glances at him from the corner of his eye. His tail curls around and pokes Remy in the shoulder blade. "What's your problem with him anyway?"

Remy's shoulders hunch and he hesitates for a moment before answering with the truth. "Rogue," he admits. "It's stupid, and petty, but Rogue likes him and not me and he likes her back because he's not a _moron_ and it's just… stupid."

Kurt stares at him. "Wait," he says, shaking his head, "back up. Are you saying that you think Rogue doesn't like _you_?"

Remy does not pout. He maybe sulks a little. " _Oui_."

"Uhhhh," says Kurt. "That's… uh."

"What?" Remy asks.

"Frankly, that _is_ stupid," Kurt says dryly. Remy scowls.

"Thanks," he says grumpily.

"But," Kurt says. "But. If you really think that Warren is trying to win Rogue's heart, then what are you going to do about it?"

Remy glares. "Remy is thinking."

"Okay," Kurt says. "If I were you, I would be thinking about how to get Warren out of the way." He shrugs. "Just saying." He takes a sip of his orange juice.

Remy thinks about it. "Remy has a friend in the Assassin's Guild," he says slowly.

Kurt chokes on his orange juice. "What –no! No, no, what the heck, Remy?"

"You said Remy should get rid of him!" Remy protests.

"Not like that!" Kurt yelps. "I meant like, get him away from Rogue so you can make your move, not _murder_!"

Remy had not actually been considering murder, but the fantasy of sending Belladonna after Warren Worthington III is too hilarious to not let it play out in his imagination for a second.

"Fine," he says sulkily. "But Remy don't have time to try and convince Rogue to love him. Jean and Scott keep following Remy around everywhere!"

Kurt grins. It's very sharp.

"I suggest you find a hiding place then."

000

A middle-aged man with gray in his hair and a neatly pressed suit should not be so terrifying. His various henchmen whisper about him when he isn't in the building but don't dare when he's within the city limits. He always seems to know when he has a traitor.

"I think," he says, walking through his prepared laboratory, smiling benignly at the terrified doctors, "that we need to discover all of the possibilities and potential that mutants may hold." He stops and gives the unit commander a slow grin. "Don't you agree?"

"Sure, boss," the commander says, swallowing hard.

No, not really, but the commander isn't stupid, okay?

The man in the suit smiles like a demented grandfatherly dentist. "Excellent," he says.

… _two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree!_

* * *

 **A/N: Here's hoping Essie knows how to rom-com with plot.**

 **Additional, No-Longer-A-Spoiler Disclaimer: I don't really own the unit commander…**


	3. On the Third Day of Christmas

**A/N: Next week, I will be on vacation, and probably will not have my laptop, so there won't be an update next week. Chapter 4 will be up the week after!**

* * *

Chapter 3: December 15

 _On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…_

* * *

Remy lets the six of diamonds explode with a satisfying bang. He charges up the next card in his deck –the two of spades –and and waits for it to go boom. There are only ten cards left. He's used them all up in about an hour, charging each one with glowing magenta energy and then letting it explode in fragments of glossy cardstock and red and black symbols. It's been a cathartic hour, but it's undeniably putting a hurt on his card supply.

He goes through more decks this way…

Remy groans.

"What's wrong, Remy?"

"Are you okay?"

"You're so quiet today, are you sick?"

Wonderful. And he thought he had found a good hiding place in the command center of the Danger Room. The Unholy Trinity has found him.

This is unfair, maybe, Remy thinks. It's not as though Tabby, Amara, and Jubilee _try_ to turn everything they do into crazy adventures that end with embarrassing photos and compromising blackmail material on everyone in the mansion. It just always turns out that way.

"Remy be just fine, ladies," he manages, shooting them his most charming grin. This grin has been getting a bit of a workout lately. It doesn't seem to have suffered for the extra use –the three girls giggle and smile back happily. Remy lets his smile melt into something softer, pleased. Even if Rogue doesn't love him, at least someone in the Institute appreciates him.

This train of thought reminds him that Rogue doesn't love him and he loses the grin entirely.

"Awww," Amara pouts at him, sliding closer and laying a hand on his arm. "You look sad. Tell us what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Remy tries. "Remy's just," he gropes for an excuse, "bored," he finishes. "Don't have nothing to do around here since the angel got here."

Whoops, that sounds a little bitter. Maybe they didn't notice–

"Remy, what _is_ your problem with Warren anyway?"

No such luck.

"Remy don't have a problem with Warren," he tries. He chokes a bit on "Warren" and there's no way they don't notice.

Jubilee gives him a very unimpressed look. He caves.

"He's just so perfect," he mutters.

"In other words," Tabby says to the others in a perfectly audible whisper, "Warren likes Rogue and Remy is jealous."

"Remy is _not_ ," he protests, loudly. The girls ignore him, which is probably best because Remy is a lying liar who _lies_. He is terribly, horribly, awfully jealous. It makes him feel petty, which he doesn't mind so much, and selfish, which he hates.

"Wait, are you jealous because you're in love with Rogue and the thought of anyone else also being in love with Rogue fills you with indescribable rage? Because that's not cool," Amara says.

"Or," Jubilee picks it up, "are you jealous because you're in love with Rogue and you think that Rogue likes Warren back and you don't have a chance with her."

It's not a question, possibly because they already know the answer. Remy just gives them all a sullen glare.

"You don't need to rub Remy's nose in it," he says.

"Oh my god," Jubilee whispers. She's covering her eyes with her hands. "You've got to be kidding me."

Amara peers into his face with squinty eyes. "He looks serious."

"He is," Tabby says to the ceiling, closing her eyes in exasperated rapture. "He really is."

"What do we do?"

"I'm sitting right here," he says.

"We have to let him deal with it himself," Tabby says, the unofficial leader dispensing the wisdom of the four month age gap between the girls. "Some things just need to take their own course."

"That sounds like a fortune cookie," Remy says suspiciously. Tabby smirks.

"Timmy's Wok!" she says cheerfully. "Free fortune cookies with every meal."

Remy sighs heavily. "Remy don't mean to be rude, ladies, but would you mind giving me some space? 'M not really in the mood for company."

Tabby exchanges glances with the other two girls and nods slowly. "Sure, Remy," she says. "But we were hoping to use the Danger Room so…"

Remy sighs and swings his feet down from their resting place on the dashboard of the command center. "Alright," he says with a grin. "Remy knows when he ain't wanted."

With a jaunty salute, he exits the command center and considers his next hiding place. The rec room is out, Bobby and Roberto having commandeered it for the afternoon to catch up on "bro time," which apparently Roberto will be missing out on while visiting his parents. Roberto is one of hardly any of the mansion residents going home for Christmas this year. Remy would wonder, but the sad truth is that a lot of the parents are either hostile towards mutants or worried about their children being in danger from hostile relatives and neighbors. It's a depressing thought.

"Jolly," Remy mutters.

So no rec room. He rejects the kitchen almost immediately. Rogue is probably there, and he doesn't want to see her.

No, that's a lie.

Remy always wants to see Rogue. He burns with his desire to see her. He lives for every glimpse of her face. For just one look at Rogue, Remy would walk through fire. In fact, he's pretty sure he did that exact thing at some point in the Apocalypse fiasco. Of course Remy wants to see Rogue. But he's pretty sure that Warren Worthington III is in the kitchen too and he'll do pretty much anything to avoid _him_ at this point.

Warren is too friendly for Remy to be comfortable. He broke into the man's _house_. No one should be this friendly to someone who broke into his house. Remy suspects that he's trying to catch Remy off guard by pretending to be nice and then springing something like, "Hey, remember that time you broke into my house?" on Remy. Apart from the fact that Remy hates him for entirely different reasons, this is just poor planning on Warren's part. Remy would never fall for such a lame scheme.

He's still kind of paranoid about the X-Men being nice to him –why on earth would he not be suspicious of Warren Worthington III?

Remy thinks sometimes that he is the only one who uses his brain in this place.

So where can he go that Warren won't be? And where can he hide so that Jean and Scott can't spy on him?

Remy leans dramatically on one of the walls and falls right through it into blackness.

Oh, nice. Apparently, they have a basement.

Luckily, Remy is very agile and extremely flexible and also once had to escape from Belladonna by jumping off the roof of the New Orleans City Hall. He twists through the air and lands on his feet like a talented and dashingly handsome cat.

Remy should probably get some kind of award for being this amazing, but as usual, no one is around to see it happen. The basement is dark and nearly empty. Remy's mutation gives him a limited ability to see in the dark. Or really, his eyes just adjust faster to darkness than the average humans. As Henri used to joke, "Your eyes know that you belong to the night, Remy. That's why they got that red in 'em. Like infrared."

Infrared is a lot nicer than "devil eyes," but Remy thinks that he'd trade the night vision for plain brown eyes that don't mark him as different the instant someone sees them.

There's nothing down here to see anyway. The room he's fallen into is small and dusty, filled with wooden boxes that seem to be empty. It doesn't look like anyone has been down here in years.

Perfect.

Remy settles cross-legged atop one of the bigger boxes and pulls his trench coat a little tighter around himself. It's cold in the basement. He digs his phones out of one of the many pockets inside his coat. It rings in his hand and he grimaces and hits _ignore_. He is _so_ not in the mood for Belle right now.

He dials from memory and Todd picks up on the second ring.

"Remy!" he greets cheerily.

"Todd," Remy says back. "Tell Remy you got something for him."

"You're so weird," is the predictable, fond response. "My buddy Copper –"

"Copper?" Remy interrupts incredulously. "You make fun of Remy for the way he talks, but you got a friend named _Copper_?"

"Do you wanna hear or not?"

Remy swallows down another mutter of _Copper_ , and says, "Okay, tell Remy."

"Copper says he knows a guy who knows a guy whose brother is one of those military guys, you know?"

Remy frowns. "You mean one of those commando guys who came in and set up base a few months ago?"

"That's them. Copper says his buddy's friend's brother is part of a unit working on top secret projects. Get this: they're funded," Todd pauses dramatically, "by the _government_."

Remy rolls his eyes. "Todd, all top secret projects are funded by the government. Haven't you ever seen _Men in Black_?"

"Aliens aren't real, Remy," Todd says snottily. "Anyway, that's pretty much it. That secret unit or whatever? They're working for the guy those two goons were talking about."

"Name?" Remy asks, very seriously.

Todd's voice is regretful. "Naw, man, sorry. But they're all scared of him. Like, real scared. Copper's buddy's friend's brother said that they call him The Snake when he's not around, 'cause he's so stone cold all the time."

Remy blows out a frustrated sigh. "Okay, well. Thanks, y'know, for doing that. And thank _Copper_ for Remy, too."

"Sure, man. Take care, okay?"

" _Oui_."

They hang up and Remy stares into the darkness of the basement. This is just great. So great. The Grinch has a taskforce, government funding, and apparently no moral conscience. Perfect.

He sighs too heavily and starts coughing on dust.

" _Gesundheit_ ," a voice says from behind him.

"Remy didn't _sneeze_ ," he starts scathingly, and then jerks around, because he'd been alone a second ago.

Kurt perches on a box that's nearly as tall as Remy, tail waving slowly behind him like a cat's, pale yellow eyes gleaming eerily.

"Hi," he says, and then jumps down.

"What are you doing down here?" Remy asks irritably. This is _his_ new hiding place! Kurt can get his own.

Kurt grins, that bright, delightful smile that almost makes you forget about how sharp those shiny white teeth really are. "Looking for you, _mein freund_. How goes the plan to win Rogue's heart?"

Remy grimaces. "Uh, sort of not the point right now. Got bigger problems." He pauses for a moment, shocked at himself. Bigger problems than his feelings for Rogue? Unheard of, obscene, and frankly ridiculous. Remy's relationships are always the biggest problem in his life. But it's true: the coming threat to the X-Men is more important than making sure Warren Worthington III doesn't make a move on Rogue.

This feels like a moment of personal growth, but Remy doesn't actually have time to reflect on it, because Kurt is staring at him and waiting for some clarification.

"Listen," Remy says, "you have to promise Remy that you won't go around telling everybody 'bout this, okay?"

Kurt loves secrets almost as much as he inexplicably loves coffee that tastes like blueberries. He leans forward and says, "Cross my heart."

Remy says, "Someone is going to attack the X-Men."

Kurt says, "What?"

And so Remy explains about the Grinch –though not so much about Todd– and watches Kurt's eyes get bigger and bigger.

"What?" he cries. "The government is trying to destroy us?" His accent gets thicker when he's upset –by the end of the sentence, Remy can barely understand him.

"Well," says Remy, "at least one guy is. But you can't tell anyone!" he adds hurriedly when Kurt starts to jump up to the box again. "Not yet anyway."

"Why not?" Kurt barks, understandably upset.

Remy spreads his hands. "It's Christmas," he explains. "Remy don't wanna worry anybody more than they have to be. Listen," he insists when Kurt looks mutinous. "We can handle it, right? We'll take it slow, figure it out first?"

Kurt starts to calm down. "Can I tell Bobby?" he asks seriously. Remy covers his eyes with one hand.

"Why," he asks the floor, "do you want to tell Bobby?"

"He's my friend," Kurt says, "and he's really good at keeping secrets." When Remy hesitates still, he sweetens the pot. "And he can help us if we have to fight."

Remy rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and sighs. "Fine. Tell the icicle. But he has to swear not to tell anyone!"

"Great!" Kurt says, and disappears in a cloud of sulfur. Remy coughs and waves his hand in front of his face.

Kurt teleports back in with Bobby in tow. Remy coughs some more, eyes watering.

"Kurt, why am I in the basement?" Bobby asks. Remy hadn't thought that it was possible for _Bobby_ to sound this long-suffering, but maybe being close friends with Kurt brings it out in people. Remy's never had the pleasure of being unexpectedly teleported by Kurt, but he's seen the look on Kitty's face often enough to recognize it on Bobby.

"Because we have top secret business to discuss," Kurt says dramatically, "and we need a top secret location."

"This isn't all that secret," Bobby points out pedantically.

"Bobby," Kurt says.

"It's not!" Bobby insists. "It's just the basement, in our house. Anyone could come down at any time. Obviously," he gestures to Remy.

"Kurt followed Remy here," Remy puts in, for what it's worth.

"Bobby," Kurt says again, "this is important."

"Sigh." Bobby doesn't sigh, he literally says the word _sigh_ , like an eighth grader on Disney Channel.

Hey, Remy watched _Flash Forward_ as a kid, okay. He lived in New Orleans, not _Mars_. They had cable.

"Fine," Bobby says. "What is this very important secret?"

"The government is trying to kill us," Kurt tells him, which is _not_ what Remy said and Kurt is _fired_ from telling people things for _always_.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," he tries to do damage control before Bobby hyperventilates. "There's just some military commandos and some guy who wants to use us as test subjects or something."

"Oh just that?" Bobby says, voice high-pitched and shaky. Remy was maybe not as reassuring as he wants to be.

"Okay, listen," and he tells the story yet again. He leaves out Todd still because Todd doesn't need the kind of crazy in his life that comes from getting involved with the X-Men. Look what happened to Remy. Todd is already involved somewhat because of Remy, and he'd like to keep that to a minimum while Todd is still alive and relatively sane and in one piece.

When he's finished, Bobby takes it better than Kurt had.

"Okay," he says, "so we need to keep an eye out for this Grinch –excellent codename by the way, Remy –and not let any of the others know what's happening?"

Thank God for reasonable people. "Remy don't want to ruin Christmas, so we're keeping this on the down low until we have more to work with, okay?"

"Also Remy doesn't want Warren involved," Kurt says knowingly. Remy stares at him suspiciously. Has Kurt developed mind reading powers when Remy wasn't looking? How did he know that?

"How did you know that?" Remy asks.

"It's obvious," Kurt says, which is not actually an answer.

"He'd get in the way," Remy explains, which is not actually an explanation and is possibly also untrue. "Remy don't need any pretty boys with fluffy wings getting themselves dirty and messing everything up."

"Remy," Bobby says reprovingly, which is a very strange thing to see. "Warren isn't like that. He's a good friend to the team and he's helped before."

 _Against Magneto and the Acolytes_ , no one says, because Bobby and Kurt are both nicer than Remy and Remy is too aware of how much he doesn't deserve to complain about that particular part of the X-Men history.

Also, wasn't that when Remy had stolen that spider thing from Warren's house? Awkward.

"Can we just deal with it?" he asks. "Come on, we can handle this by ourselves."

Kurt looks a little dubious, but Bobby brightens up a little. "Yeah!" he says. "We totally got this. We got this, don't we, Kurt?"

Kurt caves, like Remy knew he would, because Kurt is a sucker for a good secret mission, no matter how mature he might like to pretend he is. Everybody likes a good mission impossible. It's got a theme song and everything.

"So what do we do?" Kurt asks Remy.

Remy shrugs. "Gotta find out what we're up against, first. Remy will go out and get more information. Got Christmas shopping to do anyway," he mutters.

"Whoa, you haven't done your Christmas shopping yet?" Bobby asks, looking scandalized. "Dude, it's like a week away!"

Thanks, Bobby, please remind Remy about how bad he is at doing normal person things. "Remy _knows_ ," he growls. "Been busy."

"With _what_?"

"Leave him alone," Kurt cuts in. "He's in love. It's very distracting."

Remy glares. He's opening his mouth to tell Kurt what he can do with his stupid understanding and his emotional maturity and his dumb insight into Remy's brain, but then his phone rings.

He answers it before he can remember not to. " _Quoi_?" he snarls into the speaker.

"Uh, what?"

Oh, Tabby. Not Belle then. Or _Tante_. He's really glad it's not _Tante_. She wouldn't be happy with the tone he answered with.

"Uh, hi, _petit_ ," he says. "What's up?"

"Where are you?" she says exasperatedly. "Rogue has been looking all over for you and she seems to think that we've done something to you, because, and I quote, 'Y'all we're the last ones to see him this morning.'"

Remy can't help but laugh. "Your Southern accent is terrible, _petit_ ," he teases.

"Yeah, whatever," Tabby snorts. "Just come up to the kitchen, okay? She's driving me crazy."

"Is that Remy?" He suddenly hears Rogue's voice, tinny through the phone speaker, but still beautiful, vowels soft and southern, with a lilt at the end of his name that makes it sound like she's smiling as she says it. His heart is going pitter-patter, which would be really stupid if it was happening to someone else. As it is, he's pretty sure it just qualifies as pathetic.

"Yeah," Tabby answers Rogue.

"Where is he? Lemme talk to him. Why do _you_ have his phone number?"

"I think the real question here, Roguey," Tabby says, "is why _don't_ _you_ have it?"

Remy breaks in before Rogue can lose her temper. He loves her dearly, and that means he realizes that she can be nasty when she gets riled up. While Remy thinks that a catfight between Rogue and Tabby would probably be more fun than a 'gator wrestling race in the Bayou, he's also pretty sure that no one else will think so. "Okay, okay," he says. "Remy's coming, keep your shirt on, _chere_."

"He said to keep your shirt on," Tabby tells Rogue.

"He didn't say my name."

"You think he's calling anyone else _chere_ around here? Remy, are you coming?"

"Yeah, Remy's coming," he says, hoping Rogue didn't notice Tabby blurting out his (really, really obvious) tendency to only call Rogue by that particular endearment. He hangs up quickly and grimaces at Bobby and Kurt.

"Guess Remy's going up," he says. Bobby smirks.

"Whipped," he signs falsetto. Kurt rolls his eyes.

"Being _whipped_ , as you say, is only possible if you actually _have_ a relationship, Bobby," he says. "So what does that leave you?"

Bobby sputters and Remy can't help but chuckle. It's still a little embarrassing, but hey, what are friends for anyway? (This _is_ what friends are for, right? He's never had a lot of friends. He's still getting used to the whole process.)

"Go," Kurt waves him off.

"Going," Remy says, and then his face scrunches.

"Uh. How does Remy get out of here?"

000

It turns out that Remy gets out of the basement by climbing on a box and wriggling into an air vent, and then climbing up the air vent until he reaches the big grate in the wall by the front stairs in the foyer. And then he blows the grate off the vent because the climb had been very long and he is very annoyed with the whole thing.

Also he's dusty, which does not help cultivate a Dashing Figure. Nobody wants a dusty Dashing Figure.

Remy takes a moment to run upstairs and change his clothes before going to meet Rogue. He gives his trench coat a mournful look. A thick layer of blue-gray dust covers the sleeves where Remy crawled on his elbows through the vent. He frowns at the coat for a moment and then smirks. Flicking his index finger, he charges the dust on the coat and starts using the glowing energy to scrape all of the fuzz into a ball, which he pulls off of the coat and tosses into the air behind him.

It explodes with a satisfying bang.

Remy runs downstairs (okay, actually, he jumps over the railing and falls downstairs) and then has to skid to a halt outside the kitchen, where Tabby, Amara, and Jubilee are waiting for him.

"Uh," says Remy. He gives them a nervous smile. Amara is giving him a very speculative look. He doesn't like that look. That is the look that came right before the disaster that was Junior Prom Night. They never did get all the glitter off the second floor landing, and Tabby still isn't allowed to go near the utilities closet.

"Remy," Tabby says seriously, "we need to talk."

Whatever she wants, Remy wants no part of it. "Remy ain't gonna help y'all steal the jet again," he says immediately.

"What? No," Jubilee waves her hand.

"Wait –why not?" Tabby pouts, momentarily distracted.

Remy glares. "Never again," he says darkly.

"Beside the point," Amara cuts in. "Remy, we need to talk to you about Rogue."

Remy is instantly, acutely paying attention. "What about Rogue?" he asks.

Tabby gives him her best Dear Old Auntie look and pats his arm. "Now, now," she says. "Don't fuss."

He stares at her until his eyes start to cross. "What?" he says.

"Don't be weird," she says, which is almost too ironic for Remy to stand. "It's just Christmas shopping."

"Don't freak out and mess it up for yourself because you think it's 'going too well,'" Amara adds.

Jubilee wraps her arm around Remy's, well, his elbows –Remy is very tall –and starts guiding him toward the door. "Just don't be an idiot," she advises, and then shoves him into the kitchen.

Naturally, he bangs right into Rogue. They bounce off of each other and Remy spins away and slams his head into a cabinet.

"Oh my god, are you okay? Did I touch you? Remy! Answer me!" She bangs his head off a wooden cabinet and she's worried about touching him? True, getting drained by Rogue's powers isn't a cake walk or anything, but Remy really thinks the cabinet was almost as bad.

He groans. "Just fine, _chere_. How about talking not so loud, maybe?"

"Sorry," Rogue drops her voice to a whisper, gloved hands coming up to hover near her mouth. It's so freaking cute, Remy wants to pinch his own cheeks. He pushes for one last charming grin and manages a small smile. Eh. As long as it's charming, he'll take it.

"Remy hear you wanna go Christmas shopping, Roguey. Need a ride?"

 _... three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge in a pear tree!_

* * *

 **A/N: Timmy's Wok makes excellent sweet-and-sour chicken and their crab rangoon is to die for.**

 **Additional, No-Longer-A-Spoiler Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Men in Black**_ **. Or** _ **Flash Forward**_ **. Don't own Todd or Copper, either.**


	4. On the Fourth Day of Christmas

**A/N: Hahahaha stick to my self-imposed updating schedule? Who do you think I am?**

* * *

Chapter 4: December 15 (Still)

 _On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…_

* * *

It's not until Rogue is settled behind Remy on his motorcycle, long legs bracketing his, warm arms wrapped around his waist, that he starts to think maybe this isn't the best idea. She's so _close_.

He's not the only one to get nervous when Rogue gets close. Her skin is deadly after all. Or at least mildly toxic. Most people start to sweat when Rogue is within touching distance. Nobody wants to be sucked dry of energy.

Remy however, isn't sweating because of Rogue's skin. Or rather, he is, but it's not the toxicity that makes him nervous, it's the fact that this is _Rogue's skin_.

Remy has had detailed fantasies about Rogue's skin. Rogue's skin and Remy's fingers. Rogue's skin and silk scarves. Rogue's skin and chocolate syrup. Remy is a traditional man sometimes.

He might also be hyperventilating.

"Remy!" Rogue shouts in his ear. He winces.

"Roguey, Remy hear you just fine without the shouting." The helmet really doesn't block sound all that much.

"Oh," she says. "Well I just wanted to say that your phone is ringing."

Remy growls. "Lemme…" he reaches into his trench coat pocket and yanks out his phone.

Mercy. He debates for a moment, then hits _ignore_.

"Shouldn't you answer that?" Rogue asks. He wonders if she realizes that she's leaning on his shoulder. Remy certainly realizes it.

" _Non_ ," he says.

Rogue doesn't look convinced. "Isn't Mercy your sister-in-law?" she asks. "What if something's happened in the family?"

It warms Remy down to his fingertips. He actually checks for a moment to make sure they aren't blazing magenta. Rogue cares about his family. Oh, if only she could meet Mercy! And Henry would love her, of course. She's already met _Père_ , but against all odds, that hasn't turned her off all LeBeaus in general. _Tante_ has already told Remy that Rogue is the best thing that's ever happened to him and…

God help Remy, he even wants to introduce her to Belle.

The world will never be the same, of course, but Remy is confident that everyone will be accepting of their new Southern Belle overlords.

Remy wants… Remy wants to show her off to his family, to take her driving every Saturday, to dance with her to old jazz in firelight. He wants to see her in snow and in sun and in rain and in that weird hurricane weather that keeps happening all over the East Coast. Remy wants late nights, cuddling, laughing and fighting and for the love of all that is holy, Remy wants to be able to touch her.

God, he's got it bad.

Instead of that embarrassing sappiness, he says, "Mercy's been calling all week. _La_ _Famille_ … they all call at the same time, trying to get Remy to pick up."

On cue, his phone rings again. _Père_. Remy rolls his eyes and jams the phone back into his pocket.

"Let's ride, Roguey."

000

Riding a motorcycle with Rogue is An Experience. Remy is used to checking over and over to make sure his passengers are okay. Is he going too fast? Does he need to take turns more carefully? He would never want Rogue to be afraid of his driving. He reaches out, allowing the heavy shields he keeps over his mind to lift just enough to prod at Rogue with his empathy.

She's laughing.

Or, actually, her emotions are racing, flitting from extreme delight to sheer terror and then delight slides into and overlaps with terror. The resulting emotion spills into Remy's open mind rippling with mirth. And then Rogue notices, feels his presence and before he can stammer an apology and withdraw, she concentrates and unmistakable _fondness_ floods through his empathy.

Remy is going to crash this motorcycle.

He wrenches his empathy under control and slows down just a hair. Strangely, this causes Rogue to tighten her arms around his ribcage, and she rests her head against his back. Remy is glad that his face isn't visible, because he's certain that he looks incredibly soppy and love struck. He's basically a pile of goo at this point. The only thing keeping him on the motorcycle is the thought that the explanation for why they crashed would be too embarrassing.

" _Well, officer, I just found out that the woman I am madly, passionately in love with_ doesn't _hate me, and it just made me a little dizzy."_

That would go over well.

Against all odds, they reach the Bayville Mall in one piece. And then Rogue takes off her helmet and shakes out her hair and Remy is sure his heart is about to pound right out of his chest and die in a heap of adoration at Rogue's feet. Which is gross and not romantic at all, and Remy should really calm down before that happens.

Rogue is staring at him. He fumbles his helmet off of his head.

"Are you coming, Swamp Rat?"

He shakes off the vision of his heart oozing all over Rogue's grey leather ankle boots and says, "Uh, yeah."

Smooth, Remy, real smooth.

Rogue doesn't seem to notice though, or if she does, she doesn't say anything. She walks next to him, swinging her arms back and forth like she's marching into battle. Which, Remy guesses she sort of is. Christmas shopping in December is nothing to sneeze at.

Usually, Remy is more on top of things and gets his shopping done the week after Thanksgiving, but this year he's been a little distracted. What with Rogue, and then Todd needing help, and the younger X-men needing training, and _Père_ calling all the time about jobs that Remy may or may not do, and Rogue's hair and Rogue's eyes and that little bit of Rogue's skin Remy can see when she raises her arms and her shirt rides up…

Anyway, Remy's been busy.

"Where we going first, _chere_?" he asks, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. He always puts his hands in his pockets when he goes shopping. Not, as Kitty teases, to avoid the temptation of stealing, but rather to create the illusion that his hands never leave his pockets, so naturally it's _impossible_ that anyone's wallet could have ended up in Remy's trench coat.

"Jean and Scott," Rogue says grimly. "They've already bought everyone's presents and you _know_ that they're gonna be frickin' amazing, so we've gotta step up our game this year." Jean and Scott give notoriously good presents. Remy has always thought it's sort of nice, but apparently it's infuriating to Rogue.

Remy gives her a dubious look. "The words you're saying sound like you wanna a give the lovebirds a nice present, but your voice sounds like you're out for blood, _chere_."

"Oh," says Rogue, smiling a plum-lipsticked Grin of Evil, "I am." She reaches into her pocket and whips out a list. Remy has never seen Rogue make a list before. She goes grocery shopping by wandering through the aisles and playing eeny-meeny-miney-mo as far as Remy can tell. Rogue is the reason the Institute was at one point eating nothing but hash brown casserole and granola for two weeks. And now she has a list and a Grin of Evil.

It's kind of hot.

"Uh," says Remy.

"Come on," says Rogue. "We're going to Macy's."

000

It takes about three minutes in Macy's for Remy to realize that Christmas shopping with Rogue is a much different experience than grocery shopping with Rogue. She takes shopping for presents _very_ seriously.

"Kitty next," she tells him firmly once she's picked out the present she's giving Jean and Scott. It's a smoothie machine that will make three different smoothies at once, with three speeds and a chrome finish.

"Jean likes smoothies," she'd explained, "but she hates when Scott uses the blender before she does in the mornings because he puts pineapple in his and she hates pineapple, but the juice gets into her smoothie. She swears she can taste it, even though that's stupid. So now they'll be able to make their smoothies at the same time in the mornings and there won't be any pineapple in Jean's." She'd looked really proud of herself.

"How d'ya know all that stuff, Roguey?" Remy had asked. He'd gotten Jean and Scott matching sweaters with reindeer on them. Rogue had given him a weird look.

"Uh, because Jean won't shut up about it every single morning? Seriously, Swamp Rat, they've been doing this for years. How have you not noticed?"

Remy maybe should start getting up early enough for family breakfast.

"Uh, right," he mutters. "So, Kit-Kat, next?"

They go to Barnes and Noble for that one, somewhat to Remy's surprise, until he discovers the comics section, which Rogue makes a beeline for.

" _Batman_?" he asks knowingly.

"There's a new volume out of her favorite arc or whatever it's called," Rogue says, scanning the shelves with freakish speed. Remy grinned and started looking for his own gift for Kitty. She liked that one comic with the girl dressed like a ladybug, and the cat boy, right? He finds the first five volumes, one after another on the shelf, and hesitates only a second before grabbing all of them.

Not that he's giving Kitty all five of them now, but her birthday is in March, so Remy is just being efficient by buying them all now. She can have three volumes for Hanukkah… and a pair of red and black spotted earrings he swiped from Macy's earlier.

Some might say this is overkill for a girl Remy isn't even dating (or trying to date) but he figures it's the least she deserves for having to celebrate Hanukkah two weeks late.

Rogue smirks at him when she sees the pile he's collected for Kitty, but he simply raises an eyebrow right back at her for the thick boxed set of graphic novels she's holding.

"She won't shut up about that Gotham Academy or whatever," Rogue mutters. Remy wonders if anyone else knows that his Roguey is a big ol' softy. He suspects not.

They spend some more time in the bookstore because Piotr is easy for anything with a Barnes and Noble Classics cover and Remy has been trying to find as many full collections as possible. Piotr's been receiving the fully-illustrated works of Alexandre Dumas for birthdays and Christmas for two years now. Soon it will be time to move on to Jane Austen or something.

Remy pulls his phone out to check the time at one point and winces at the number of missed calls blinking angrily from the screen. Belle and _Père_ have each called him seven times. Mercy has tried twenty-three. There are twenty-nine voicemails.

 _Tante_ Mattie only called once, and Remy shudders to think of what that message might say.

Of course, she might not have left a message at all, but Remy kind of thinks that might be worse. He follows Rogue from store to store in a terrified haze imagining _Tante's_ wrath.

They're in some kind of weird store that sells table lamps because Rogue overheard Storm complaining about the lack of good lighting in the family room and decided that lamps made good Christmas presents. Remy privately thinks that table lamps are sort of lame presents, but he's not about to say so to Rogue, who has started bouncing up and down on her toes in the excitement of Christmas shopping.

She's so adorable. Remy can feel himself turning into goo again.

His phone rings in the check-out, buzzing against his hip. Rogue must hear it, because she turns to him and raises an expectant eyebrow.

"What," says Remy.

"You should answer that," she says back, taking her bag stuffed with Storm's weird lamp and a throw blanket for Kurt. She hands it to Remy and shoos him out of the store. Being shooed by Rogue is very strange, because she doesn't so much wave her hand at him as she puts it between his shoulder blades and shoves.

Remy has an IOU gift for Kurt, a promise to treat him to any of his choice of the best German-run restaurants in New York State, wherever the kid wants to go. Rogue had given him a beaming smile when he mentioned it.

"That's real nice, Remy," she'd said. "Kurt will really love that. He's not going home until the New Year, so he'll be missing his parents. This will cheer him up a lot."

Remy kind of hopes no one knows how much of a softy _he_ is.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and sighs heavily when he sees his father's number again. He hits _ignore_. Rogue hits his shoulder.

"Ow!" He pouts, rubbing his arm with the bags. "What the–"

"You should answer!" she hisses at him. He glares, but Rogue has been perfecting the Angry Goth persona for her entire life, and Remy's glare just isn't up to snuff.

"Fine!" He caves. "I'll call them back." Rogue takes this as her cue to drop bags and herself down on the closest mall bench and cross her arms over her chest. She raises her eyebrows at him.

"Well, go on," she says.

Growling, Remy drops his own packages and paces a couple of feet away. He pulls out his phone and calls _Père_ back.

It only rings once before Jean-Luc picks it up. "Remy?" he almost shouts. "About time you picked up, boy!"

" _Désolé_ , _Père_ ," Remy says. "Remy was–"

"Hold on, you can explain to everyone. _Tante_! Mercy! Belle! Remy's on the phone!"

"Oh no," Remy says. Rogue looks up and smirks at him.

"Remy LeBeau!" Mercy's voice is so loud that Remy jerks the phone away from his ear. "Why you ignoring me?"

"Ignoring all of us," Belle drawls, sending a shiver up Remy's spine. He's completely gone on Rogue now, has been for months, but there was a time when that voice could twist him into knots in the best possible way. He and Belladonna are just friends now, but he can't help the skin reaction.

He clears his throat. "Uh, Remy been busy, y'all. Didn't mean to ignore you."

He hears her snort before her voice echoes over the airwaves. "Boy," _Tante_ Mattie says, "y'know we all ain't stupid, right? _Tante_ knows when you're ignoring her, don't argue with me." She doesn't _sound_ mad, but Remy gulps anyway, 'cause that doesn't mean anything at all in his family.

" _Je suis désolé_ ," he says again. "Remy just… been trying to settle," he finishes lamely.

"For six _months_?" Mercy exclaims exasperatedly.

Remy stares helplessly at Rogue, who simply raises her eyebrows at him, probably because she can't hear whatever is causing Remy to look like he's being hunted. "It's a big house," he says.

He can almost hear Belle's eyes rolling. "It isn't like you've never seen a big house before, Remy."

"Yeah, well," he mutters, which isn't any kind of comeback at all, but is all he can manage with Belle in his ear and Rogue pretending not to be watching him pace and fidget with his gloves. She's got her head tipped back, staring at the ceiling and she's… is she humming? She's humming, and bopping her head to music only she can hear. She's smiling, watching her own reflection in the mirrored mall ceiling and laughing at herself.

That's so _cute_.

Remy is practically made of syrup at this point, that's how sappy he's become. This woman has turned him into maple tree.

"Are you even _listening_ , Remy?" Jean-Luc demands.

"Sorry!" he yelps. "Sorry, Remy got distracted, sorry!" What is it about his father that turns Remy into a little kid again?

And now Rogue is staring at him, looking concerned. She gets up and walks over to him to lay her hand on his arm. "Uh," he says into the phone. His eyes must be as big as saucers, but how is he supposed to not react to Rogue's hand on his arm and Rogue's face peering up into his…

"Why you been calling so much?" he interrupts whatever Jean-Luc had been saying. "You coulda called anytime, but you didn't, so why now?"

Silence for a moment, and then they all start talking at once.

"Gotta job for you–"

"Nobody will listen to me when I need to talk about–"

"Just wanted to see how you were doing–"

"That girl–"

It's that last one that makes him say, "What? Hold on, one at a time!"

And now they're all quiet. He resists the urge to drum his hand into his own forehead and says wearily. "Uh, _Père_?"

"Gotta job you might be interested in, Remy," his father says immediately. "It's up near you, close to Bayville, low risk."

"Remy's not doing jobs right now," Remy says sharply, mindful of how Rogue's eyes narrow at the inflection on _jobs_. "Got X-Men stuff to do. Don't have the time, and doubt the Professor would be too happy about Remy getting involved with Guild stuff under his roof." He stares down at Rogue, hoping that she'll understand that just because Remy's objections have more to do with politeness to his host than with any moral dilemmas, doesn't mean he's a bad person.

Remy's never exactly thought of himself as a _good_ person either, but he's pretty sure he isn't a _really_ bad one at least.

To his surprise, his father only puts up a token resistance to his refusal. "Alright, alright," Jean-Luc says. "I was only asking 'cause I know you've done work like it in the past. You don't have to take it."

"Oh. Well. Good," Remy says, kind of awkwardly. He hadn't been expecting it to be as easy as that. "Uh, Mercy?" he asks next.

"I need to ask you for advice about Henri's Christmas present," she says sweetly. Remy pulls the phone away from his ear and gives it an incredulous look as though Mercy can see it through the line.

"Why you asking Remy?" he demands.

"Because you're the only one I can think of who won't just say 'gift card' or 'steal him something nice.' It's like everyone in this family is incapable of figuring out how to give presents that aren't stolen!"

Remy doesn't point out that this is the same family that raised him, so how exactly is he supposed to have a different point of view on gift giving? He eyes the various bags and boxes around him and considers what he's been doing all afternoon.

Maybe Mercy has a point.

"Uhh, pictures? Scrapbooking material? Henri loves sentimental crap like that," he says finally. It sounds lame to him, like most of his gift ideas when he has to come up with something that has real meaningful value. Henri is hard to shop for, always has been. Luckily, he is also incredibly patient with his younger brother's fumbling attempts at giving real presents.

If only everyone in Remy's life were as easy to gift as Kitty and Piotr. Why can't he just buy books for everyone on the list and be done with it?

But Mercy exclaims in delight. "Oh, Remy!" she says. "That's perfect! You're the best, I knew I could count on you!"

He blinks. "Uh, welcome, Mercy." Rogue looks very interested, which is why he's wincing a little when he says, "Belle?" Rogue's eyebrows arch up her forehead and he gets distracted for just a second wondering if they're as soft as her hair, which is probably a very creepy thing to think about, but it's too late, Remy already went there.

"I just wanna see how you been doing, Remy," Belle is saying.

"Oh, uh, Remy, Remy been fine," he says, stammering over his words and breaking gazes with Rogue to rub his hand over his chin.

"How's being a superhero?" Belle teases. Remy smiles a little, glancing back to Rogue and letting her in on the joke.

"Oh, you know, superheroing is pretty hard work. We do a lot of saving people. Kissing babies."

"Sure you ain't kissing _babes_?" Belle asks slyly. Remy flushes and scowls.

" _Non_."

"Belle!" _Tante_ scolds, butting into the conversation in that way she has that makes you feel like she's just been waiting to be polite and this is actually _her_ conversation from the start. "Y'know our Remy isn't out kissing no girls! He's got his heart set on someone!"

" _Tante_!" he protests, trying to lean away from Rogue without looking like he's leaning away from Rogue. It doesn't work, so he just gives her an apologetic grimace and steps away. " _Tante_!" he hisses. "You can't just _say_ –"

Well, of course telling _Tante_ Mattie she can't do something means absolutely nothing if she's of the mind to do it, and anyway, don't Remy know what's good for him?

"Yes'm," he says, and shuts up.

"Now Remy," _Tante_ says, "have you actually told the girl you like her?"

"Remy didn't even tell _you_ I like her," he mutters under his breath. Sometimes he wonders if _Tante_ is a mutant, with all her knowing things nobody tells her, but mostly he thinks it's just some kind of old Cajun woman magic.

"You gonna tell her," _Tante_ orders sternly. "It's not fair to her for you not to let her know how you feel."

"How does that make sense?" Remy complains. "If Remy don't say anything, then she never has to find out at all, so how would she know?"

"She deserves to know," _Tante_ says.

"Well what if she already does?" Remy exclaims, louder than he wanted to. Rogue looks over at him and he lowers his voice instantly. _Tante_ and the others have become very quiet on the other end. "She does know," he says. "She… I don't see how she couldn't know. I haven't exactly been subtle about it. But she hasn't said anything about it, so dunno what Remy can do more."

He must sound really miserable, because Mercy comes on the line the next second. "Remy," she says gently.

"What," he says, too flat.

" _Fils_ ," and there's _Père_. Remy can just _see_ the look Jean-Luc is probably wearing: part exasperation, part fondness, some amusement mixed in with _what-are-we-gon'-do-with-this-kid._ Remy's real familiar with that particular look.

He sighs, homesick and lovesick and starting to feel regular sick from the smell of mall food all around him. "Look," he says, "can we. Let's talk later, okay? Rem–I'm in the middle of a mall here, and this… It's too much okay? Sorry, it's just too much, to be talking to y'all, but not able to see you, and I really don't want to talk about this anyway, okay? Sorry, just, bye, for now, okay? Bye. Love y'all," he adds at the end, because he does, and because the thought of not saying it makes him feel awful. He says it again to be sure and then hangs up and turns off his phone.

Rogue is at his side the next second. "Are you okay?" she asks, green eyes wide and worried. "If I'd known it was gonna get that serious I never would have insisted you call them right here and now, Remy, I swear."

She's got her hand on his arm again, a glove and his coat and his long-sleeved shirt between her skin and his, and yet he feels like they're closer than they've been since that trip to New Orleans that started this whole thing.

"Remy fine, _chere_ ," he says, and he doesn't even have to force the smile. Not for her. "It's just," he waves his hand expansively, still holding the cell phone. "Y'know. Family stuff."

The eyebrow arches again. Remy tries not to swoon. "Family, or _Family_?" she asks knowingly.

Remy rolls his eyes. "Bit of both," he concedes.

Rogue nods sympathetically and thankfully changes the subject. "I think we're almost done," she says, indicating their various bags. "Just the gift cards for the young 'uns and something alcoholic for Logan and the Professor." She gives Remy a sly smile and he feels his mood lifting.

"Oh, okay, that's how it is," he says. "You just wanted Remy along 'cause you need someone with a legal ID to buy you alcohol."

She pouts. "Are you saying you won't?"

Remy winks. "Aw, _chere_ , you know Remy'll do anything for you. Might cost you though," he says thoughtfully, tapping his finger against his chin and giving her a playful smirk.

She rolls her eyes and elbows him in the side. "Keep that up, Swamp Rat, and I might just give you what you're asking for."

Has his heart stopped? He can't breathe; she's standing so close to him. "Promise?" he says hopefully.

Rogue laughs, giving him a shove. "Come on, Cajun, let's go."

000

It's not until they get out of the fancy wine and alcohol shop that they come to an awful realization. Actually, it's not until they get out to the parking lot.

"Oh no," Rogue says, stopping short right behind Remy.

"What?" he says, "what's wrong?"

"Oh. _No_!" She looks up at him in horror, holding out her arms full of packages and bags. "The motorcycle!"

Remy's eyes widen and they stare at each other for a moment, surrounded by bags and boxes and at least four bottles of very expensive Scotch, with no way of transporting it all home.

"We maybe shoulda thought this through better," Remy says.

"Maybe," Rogue allows, starting to snicker. She glances to the side just as Remy is doing the same and they catch each other's eyes.

Within seconds they're both laughing. Rogue snorts when she laughs hard enough, and her head is thrown back so far Remy can see the white line of her throat disappearing into her scarf. Suddenly, he's warm all over.

"What –what are we gonna do?" Rogue gasps finally. "We can't call anybody; we've got all their presents in these bags!"

Remy honestly doesn't have an answer, but he's about to come up with a plan on the fly when the worst thing possible happens.

Well, okay, so not the very worst thing, because Remy has been through some pretty rough stuff in the past few years, notably the Guild Feud, Apocalypse, and well. The entirety of the thing with Magneto, really. So, it's really just a terrible, no good, very bad thing that happens.

Warren Worthington III pushes open the door of the Starbucks, conveniently located next to the mall entrance, and ambles out into the winter sunshine. He's dressed in a long wool coat that hides his wings, and his stupid shiny blond hair is covered by a dark blue cap with earmuffs. He should look ridiculous. Instead he just looks like a model.

God, Remy hates this guy.

"Oh!" says Warren, like he just now noticed them standing in the middle of a sea of bags, taking up the whole sidewalk. "You doing your Christmas shopping, Rogue?" He smiles at Roguey, which Remy understands completely, but which also makes Remy want to punch him in the throat.

"Yeah," Rogue smiles back at Warren, not noticing the way Remy has involuntarily started bristling beside her. "Remy and I were just finishing up." She laughs a self-deprecating little chuckle. "We just completely forgot that we'd need to take everything home!"

"No car?" Warren asks, grinning at Remy. Remy doesn't scowl at him, but it's close.

"Naw," Rogue says, "we just brought a motorcycle instead of something with storage space." She nudges Remy with her shoulder, invites him to join in the joke again. So maybe she does notice the tension.

"Oh, well if that's the trouble," Warren says, shrugging, "I have plenty of room in my car. You can both put your bags in the trunk, since I'm heading back to the mansion anyway."

"That'd be great, Warren!" Rogue says warmly. She starts gathering up her bags and says, "Come on, Remy! We'll follow you," she says to the Angel, who beams and sweeps up the rest of Rogue's packages. Remy grabs his own before Warren can try to show off his strength anymore than he already has. Rogue is probably admiring his gallantry as well as his fancy cut coat. Remy's coat is made of canvas and cotton and it belonged to at least two other Thieves before it reached him.

It's a good coat, and Remy wouldn't trade it. Warren Worthington III is a snob anyway.

They load their bags into the trunk of Warren's Ferrari. It's a literal Ferrari, which is so pretentious that Remy almost can't stand it.

"Well, I'll see you back at the Institute then," Warren says, clapping his gloved hands together. He glances at Rogue. "Unless you'd care for a ride?"

"Oh, we have Remy's motorcycle," Rogue said, looking back at Remy, who suddenly realizes that it's not only freezing, but that it's started to snow.

"I'll bring you back tomorrow to pick it up," Warren offers.

"That sounds–"

" _Non_ ," Remy interrupts Rogue, giving her an apologetic smile. "Remy will take the motorcycle. You ride in the car, in the warm," he says to Rogue.

"Remy are you sure?" Rogue says. She steps closer to him and he grins, one last charming smile to finish off this day, and waves her off.

"Go on, _chere_. Remy see you at the Institute."

"Home," Rogue says, oddly insistent. This is one of the things Rogue gets hung up on. Calling the Institute "home" is very important to her. Kind of weird, if you ask Remy, but he really isn't one to talk about weird quirks.

"Yeah," he says. "Home."

"Well then, Miss Rogue," says Warren Worthington III, "shall we?" He holds open the passenger door to his Ferrari. Remy pulls his coat around himself tighter and turns out into the parking lot to head to his motorcycle. He doesn't see Rogue looking at his back before she slides into the car.

… _four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge in a pear tree!_

* * *

 **A/N: Come say hi on tumblr, y'all! (indigo-night-wisp dot tumblr dot com)**

 **Additional, No-Longer-A-Spoiler Disclaimer: I do not own Macy's or Barnes and Noble. Or Gotham Academy. Or Miraculous Ladybug. Or Starbucks.**


	5. On the Fifth Day of Christmas

**A/N: Thanks beyond measure to reviewers, especially Wolf, for your patience as well as your continued enthusiasm. Sorry for the late update. I had a funeral to attend this week and it sort of took over everything.**

 **I also want to say, just as a sort of plug, that a lot of my favorite writers in this fandom influence my own writing and characterization, so shout out to KineticallyCharmed and especially her fic series "The Beautiful Mind of Katherine Pryde" because her Kitty/Remy friendship is so good that I've basically adopted her characterization as headcanon and if you see it reflected here, it's done with love.**

* * *

Chapter 5: December 15 and 16

 _On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…_

* * *

Remy beats Rogue and Warren back to the Institute, which is probably a good thing, since he's planning to have a good long sulk and he doesn't need any interruptions.

He wraps himself into his coat, lowers his eyebrows as grouchily as he can, and slinks through the foyer of holiday cheer. He passes the crowded rec room and ignores Kurt's shout of welcome, climbs the stairs and keeps going until he reaches the greenhouse.

He sits among the carnations and succulents and scowls. Pulls out his cigarettes but then thinks better of it. No need to give Storm's plants secondhand smoke diseases.

Remy doesn't like feeling like this. He feels like a stupid child. Being jealous always makes Remy pout, and even though he has it on good authority that he has a very attractive pout, it's not really the sexiest look.

Pouting on Rogue, now that would be sexy. On Remy it just looks like he ate something that didn't agree with him.

He's just wondering whether it will count against his sulking time if he runs down to the kitchen to get some eggnog when Kurt appears in a cloud of sulfur and the ugliest holiday sweater Remy has ever seen.

"That," he says after he's waved away the smoke of the teleportation, "is the ugliest holiday sweater Remy has ever seen."

" _Danke_ ," Kurt says, looking very pleased with himself, blue tail coiling around to poke himself in the… snowman. "My mother sent it to me. She found it online."

"Oh," says Remy, because that is very nice for Kurt, but Remy is trying to be in a bad mood here. He tries a glare, but unlike his smile, Remy's glares do not have special powers.

Especially not against someone who used to have the word _demon_ shouted at him in the street.

"Why," says Kurt, sitting down next to Remy and one of Storm's Christmas Cacti, "are you sitting up here all by your lonesome, _mein fruend_?"

Remy sighs. "The canary showed up while Rogue and Remy were Christmas shopping," he mutters.

"Ah," says Kurt. "The canary being Warren, I assume?"

" _Oui_ ," Remy grumps.

Kurt shakes his head sadly. "What happened?"

"He's bringing our packages back to the house 'cause we took the motorcycle out," Remy says. "Rogue's with him."

"She wanted to go in his car?"

"Well," Remy shrugs. "It was cold, so Remy told her to just ride with the angel."

"So," Kurt says slowly, "she only went with him because you suggested it?"

Remy pouts some more. "Guess so," he sulks.

Kurt shakes his head. "You–" he starts, but then Remy's phone rings.

Groaning, Remy yanks it out of his pocket, only to immediately straighten up when he sees the caller ID. "It's Todd," he says, answering the call. "Todd? What's going on?"

"Copper was talking to his friend, who was asking _his_ friend, who's been keeping tabs on the situation at the compound, y'know, because of his brother–"

"Todd, what the heck are you talking about?"

"The commandos, Remy! My friend's friend's brother said that the Snake guy is gonna be gone again until tomorrow! It's the perfect time for you and your X-Men guys to check it out! I mean," says Todd, in the sort of embarrassed tone that implied he hadn't intended to use that many exclamation points at once, "if you want to."

Suddenly, this day isn't looking as dark and gloomy as Remy had thought. "Yeah," he says, "that's great, Todd, thanks. You've just done us a big favor."

"Sure, whatever," says Todd, not nearly as casually as he probably thinks. "Uh, keep me posted, okay?"

" _Oui_ ," Remy says. "Bye." He hangs up and beams at Kurt, who blinks, possibly surprised by Remy's sudden change of mood, but more likely simply dazzled by the power of Remy's smile. Now that it's been recharged, it's operating at full power. Kurt might need a moment to recover.

"Uh," says Kurt. "What?"

"We're going on a secret mission," Remy tells him. "Where's Bobby?"

"Wait!" Kurt calls after him as they race down the stairs. "What about Rogue? And Warren?"

Remy must not hear him, because he doesn't even hesitate.

They run into Bobby in the middle of the kitchen. He's helping Jubilee, Ray, and Tamara whisk something in a pitcher, and they all pause with guilty looks on their faces when Remy and Kurt whirl through.

"Come on, Bobby," Kurt says, wrapping his tail around Bobby's waist. "Secret mission time!"

"Uh," says Bobby, and then Kurt grabs Remy's arm and teleports them all to the foyer of the mansion.

"Now," says Remy, while Kurt and Bobby scramble for their coats, "which one of these keys goes to the van y'all ride around in?" He glares at the confusing key rack hanging by the door.

"You don't know?" Bobby asks, yanking a toboggan on over his hair. Remy rolls his eyes.

"Remy don't actually drive the 'official' cars around here, Icicle."

"Here," Kurt flicks the correct key ring to Remy with his tail. "Let's go–"

The doorbell rings.

The three X-Men stare at each other warily for a second. "Well," says Kurt, gesturing to Remy, "answer it."

Remy grimaces. He reaches out and pulls the door handle slowly, hauling the heavy door open. He blinks.

"Pete?" he says.

"Piotr!" Kitty exclaims from the landing above them. She drops through the flooring and lands gently next to Remy and then launches herself at Piotr, who stumbles back a little, catching her.

"Ah, hello, Katya," he rumbles softly. "It is good to see you."

"Come in, come on!" she says. "I didn't know you were coming today!"

"Remy didn't know you were coming at all," Remy mutters. Piotr gives him a kind smile.

"Katya asked the Professor if he would mind me staying here for Christmas, since I cannot yet go home to Russia." He gives Kitty an adoring look that she somehow seems to miss. Remy's eyes will fall right out of his head if he rolls them any harder. Piotr is so obvious, and Kitty is so oblivious, it's almost too much for this Cajun to take, honestly.

"Yeah, yeah, that's nice, come on," he says. He grabs Piotr's arm and starts pulling him towards the door.

"Remy!" Kitty yells. "What are you doing?"

"Secret mission," Remy tells her. "No girls allowed." Kitty sputters and Piotr, who has obligingly started walking on his own, turns and gives her an apologetic shrug.

"We will catch up this evening, _da_ , Katya?" he says hopefully.

"Oh!" she smiles at him, forgetting that she is furious. "Of course, Piotr. Remy, you bring him back soon!"

"He's _my_ friend!" Remy yells over his shoulder.

"He's _my_ guest!" she yells back, and then slams the door behind them. Bobby jumps out of the way of a pile of falling snow just in time.

"Yikes," he says.

"Secret mission?" asks Piotr politely, allowing Remy to steer him toward the garage.

"Yeah!" Kurt chimes in. "A secret mission of the Brotherhood of Super-Secret Sub-level Ninjas!"

Remy stops short and turns to stare at Kurt. "That is not the name."

"Yes it is," Kurt says blithely.

"Not."

"Is," says Kurt. "You didn't think to name it, so Bobby and I did. And we're in the club too, so we get a vote!"

Remy says, "This is not a democracy."

"Sure it is," says Kurt, "and the people have spoken."

"Piotr," Remy says desperately. His friend smiles a serene smile.

"I like the name," he says calmly.

"Remy hates all y'all," Remy says. They reach the garage and suddenly Remy has a bad feeling. "Uh-oh," he says.

"What?" Bobby says. "What uh-oh?"

"Remy dropped the keys inside while _le chat_ was yelling."

"We don't have keys?" Kurt says slowly. Remy shakes his head.

" _Non_ ," he says.

"It's fine!" Bobby says. "We'll just go in Piotr's car!" He turns to Piotr excitedly. "How'd you get here, buddy?"

Piotr's smile is apologetic to those who don't know him well, but to Remy, who spent a considerable amount of time with Piotr last year and so got used to all of the other man's weird little habits, knows better. That is one evil grin.

"Actually," says Piotr, "I took a cab."

000

"This," Kurt announces, "is not an auspicious beginning."

"Dunno," Remy says, "seems pretty suspicious to Remy. We're sneaking in the back way and everything."

Kurt squints at Remy, who doesn't notice, and then at Piotr, who simply raises his eyebrows very pointedly.

Kurt knows about pointed. That is one pointed eyebrow raising.

"Never mind," he says out loud. "But taking a taxi to the lair of the psycho villain who wants us all dead just isn't all that cool, you know?"

"The Grinch," Remy murmurs.

"What?"

"Nothing," Remy says. "Look, we got here, didn't we? And we've gotta get in there now, while there's still time to scout it out. Remy don't want to be anywhere near here when this guy gets back."

"As you say here," Piotr rumbles softly, "step on it."

Sometimes, Remy thinks Piotr has been messing with them all this time by pretending not to understand English properly. He wouldn't put it past the guy.

Initiating Piotr into the Brotherhood of Super-Secret Sub-level Ninjas was very simple. Remy hadn't wanted to initiate him at all, since this isn't a club and anyway he hates that name, but Kurt and Bobby had done it anyway and now it's too late.

The initiation had involved standing in the dark and reciting an oath. Since they didn't have a basement handy, Piotr just stood in an extra-shadowy patch of shadow next to the commando base.

"I solemnly swear," he had said, solemnly, "to keep the secrets of the Brotherhood, to always have my brothers' backs, and to fight the battles that face us, wherever and whenever we may be."

Remy had rolled his eyes and said, "Can we go now?"

And now they're faced with the wall of the compound.

Remy doesn't actually believe in walls, as such. Oh, he knows they exist, of course, physically, but the _idea_ behind walls just never really seems to stick with him. The notion of keeping people out of a place with some blocks of stone or planks of wood is frankly ridiculous. Remy gets into places that have walls all the time. Just because some people might be deterred by walls doesn't mean that they're actually an effective means of defense.

There's a reason Remy doesn't keep anything he considers valuable in his room at the Institute. He doesn't really trust doors or locks either. Rogue has explained at least four times that nobody is going to come into his room without his permission, but even though Remy trusts Rogue with his life, he still isn't going to leave his trench coat in there. Jean likes to _clean_ , so who knows what she might do?

Anyway, Remy is friends with Kitty and Kurt. Walls tend to mean less when you know someone who can walk through them.

Speaking of which, Kurt is nodding. " _Ja_ ," he says in answer to Bobby's question that Remy hadn't listened to, "I can teleport us in."

"Or," says Remy, "we can just climb the wall." They all turn to look at him.

"Uh," says Bobby, "wall climbing was never really my strong point in gym."

Remy looks at the wall. It's not that impressive. "Suit yourself," he says, and snaps his bo staff open. He runs at the wall and plants his staff in the ground, propelling himself to the top of the wall and balancing like a cat. "Coming?" he calls down.

BAMF!

Kurt and the others appear in smoke below him. Remy grins and jumps down to join them. "Now," he says, rubbing his hands together. "Let's see what they're hiding in here."

000

Remy does not like wasting time. Maybe it's because he grew up in the Thieves Guild, where wasting time led to things like being eaten by alligators when your friends left you behind in the bayou during training exercises.

Or maybe it's just because Remy likes to get the hard and boring stuff out of the way as quickly as possible and wasting time is synonymous with taking too long to finish for Thieves.

If there's one thing Remy learned early as a Thief, it's to finish quickly. A slow Thief is a dead Thief, especially when Belladonna is involved. That had been a dicey job, for sure.

Anyway, Remy doesn't like wasting time, which is what he's been doing for the past two hours apparently, so he's not really happy.

"Nothing!" he exclaims heatedly in the back of the cab. Their driver is giving him nervous looks. Probably because of his devil eyes.

Definitely not because he's been ranting for the past five minutes about that stupid compound. Couldn't be.

"It is logical that they would not leave convenient evidence lying around where someone on a cursory walkthrough could see it," Piotr says gently.

Remy squints at him. "'Cursory,' huh?" he says. Piotr beams at him and widens his eyes, innocent like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Remy doesn't actually understand that phrase, but whatever; Pete is totally making a butter melting face.

"That is the correct word, _da_? To mean 'casual'? 'Not thorough'?" Piotr asks.

"Yeah, buddy, no worries. You got it right the first time," Bobby says, completely missing the point, as usual.

Remy pounds his own head with Kurt's hand. Kurt extracts his fist from Remy's and glares.

"Stop that," he says. "We will try again another time. At least now we know more about the commandos."

"Yeah," Bobby says glumly. "Like that there're a lot of them and they're all really well-armed and well-trained."

The units of men housed in the compound are practically a private army. There must be over a hundred of them, all training and working and itching to bust out and go mutant-hunting. Remy does not like this at all.

"Remy just wish we knew why they're doing all this!" he exclaims. "It's all science-fiction and mad scientist stuff!"

"Experiments," Piotr says solemnly. Remy waves his hands wildly. The cab driver swerves frantically and Piotr grabs Remy's arm and yanks him back down into the seat.

Remy's saying, "Exactly! They want to do experiments on us, but what kind, and why?" He barely notices Piotr pulling on him.

"We'll find out," Kurt says. "We will try to find a way to see more of the compound another time. For now, it's almost time for dinner, and they'll be expecting us at the mansion."

Remy sits back and crosses his arms, thinking. Heavy guards at all the most interesting looking entrances and hallways had meant only a brief visit and exploration was possible, but that was with company. Maybe if he went alone later he could get farther.

Piotr says, "No."

"What?" asks Remy, attempting the butter look. It doesn't work. Piotr shakes his head and frowns.

"You will not go back alone," he says quietly. "I won't allow it."

"You're not the boss of Remy," Remy says.

Piotr gives him a smug look. "I will tell Katya what you are up to if you try it," he says. "And our Brotherhood will have to have a Sister."

"Remy didn't really mean 'no girls allowed,'" he grumbles. "Just don't want to worry any more people than I have to over the holidays."

"And you are bored," Piotr says easily. Kurt and Bobby are poking each other and challenging each other to eating contests, Kurt from the front and Bobby from the back. Piotr is turned in the backseat to face Remy, who is scrunched in the corner behind the passenger seat.

Remy tries to deny it.

" _Non_! Bored? From what, saving the world and, and… practicing and training all the time?"

"Yes," says Piotr. "You are bored. You are not used to being settled in one place with so many people for such a long time. Even when you lived in New Orleans, you were constantly leaving to work or sightsee or do whatever you wanted. And now you have more responsibility and more restriction. And you are bored."

Remy narrows his eyes. "Remy didn't tell you any of that," he says.

" _Nyet_ ," Piotr says.

"You've been talking to _Tante_ Mattie, haven't you."

" _Nyet_ ," Piotr says. "I just know you."

000

Remy doesn't know Rogue is back until she runs into him in the hallway on their way to dinner.

Literally, runs into him. His _chere_ is many things: beautiful, glorious, sarcastic, a little terrifying, truly stunning in anything that shows her shoulders, where was Remy going with this again?

Oh yeah: Rogue is many things, but Remy wouldn't say "graceful" is one of them.

"Remy!" she says when they've untangled themselves.

" _Chere_ ," he says back, trying to straighten his buttoned-up shirt and not look at her too much, lest he blush. He left his trench coat in one of his hiding spots around the mansion and now he's feeling a little naked without it.

"I wanted to talk to you about Christmas presents–"

Despite the fact that they just spent most of the day talking about Christmas presents, this sentence sends horror right through Remy.

He forgot Rogue's present!

How can he presume to call himself her suitor when he can't even remember to get her a Christmas present? Remy's experience with relationships is mostly brief flings and, well, Belladonna, but he's pretty sure that remembering presents on major holidays is a Requirement of some kind.

Rogue is smiling at him, saying something. Remy tries to pay attention, but his thoughts have started to spiral.

 _No gift she'll think you don't care about her you idiot why didn't you think she'd never want you anyway, you stupid…_

"That sound good, Remy?"

He has no idea what she just said, but he trusts Rogue, and whatever she's planning can't be that bad, right? Probably just about Institute rules regarding Christmas presents or something. For some reason, everyone in the Institute seems to think that Remy needs to be told not to do things that he never would have thought of doing. Such as eating other people's food out of the refrigerator, helping himself to the grocery money, and peeking into Christmas presents.

Remy is a Thief, he's not a _heathen_.

"Sure thing, Roguey," he says, since that can't be the wrong answer.

Except, apparently it is, because Rogue frowns a little and says, "Well if you don't want to–"

" _Non_!" he says hurriedly. "That sounds amazing. Sorry, Remy's just a little distracted right now." _What_ is he going to get her for Christmas?

"By what?" she asks.

Time to do what Remy does best. He winks at her and crosses his arms in a way that he knows shows his forearms to their best advantage. A man can do a lot by flashing a bit of forearm.

"Aw, _chere_ , you know Remy can't think straight around you."

She blushes, which is exactly what Remy wanted. He doesn't realize his smirk has faded into a real smile. When Rogue gives him a shy grin, he blinks and coughs, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Uh, we should get to dinner," he mutters.

"Yeah," she says. She boldly, for Rogue, reaches out and unrolls his sleeve a little, until it's covering his elbow completely. And then she puts her gloved hand in the crook of his elbow and pulls him along.

"C'mon, Swamp Rat," she says. "We're gonna be late."

Remy, lost in the ecstasy of touching her, even with two layers between them, can only say, "Coming, _chere_."

000

After dinner, they all gather in the rec room for another mansion holiday tradition: Christmas movies. Tonight it's _A Miracle on 34_ _th_ _Street_ , which Remy has never seen.

And apparently, he's still not going to get to see it, because:

"Scott!" Jean whispers. "Psst! Scott!"

Well, she thinks she whispers. Four different heads turn to watch her hustle Scott off to the hallway, wondering what secrets Jean is telling him. Remy grumbles silently to himself about getting dusty and wriggles off the couch to crawl into a nearby air vent that lets out into the hall to eavesdrop. Remy has gotten very good at crawling silently through air vents since becoming an X-Man.

"What's all the hush-hush about?" Scott is asking.

"It's Remy," Jean says, and Remy rolls his eyes in his vent. "He's up to something," she continues.

Scott does not sigh heavily and ask her why she is so paranoid about Remy ruining Christmas. He clearly wants to, but he doesn't.

Jean must hear it anyway, because she glares at him. "This is serious, Scott," she says. "I think Remy is keeping secrets."

Scott says, "We all keep secrets, Jean. We can't _not_ and still have peace in this house." Remy is starting to be a little bit impressed by Scott. It's uncomfortable.

Jean gives Scott a gently reproving look and says, "I hope you don't keep secrets from me, Scott."

"Of course not," Scott says. "But Remy is allowed to not tell us everything he's thinking. _Everyone_ is allowed that."

Jean sniffs at him, wrinkling her nose. "I know," she says. "I just want everything to go well this Christmas."

"Showing off for Warren?" Scott says gently.

She scowls. "Is it so wrong to want to be at our best for our friend?" she asks.

"Of course not. But you know Warren isn't going to stop liking us if we're not perfect, right?" Scott reaches out and pulls Jean close to kiss her nose. Remy burns with jealousy. What he would give to kiss Rogue's nose like that!

"I know," Jean sighs. She leans her head on Scott's chest. "But Remy…"

"I'll keep an eye on Remy," Scott promises. "Just try and relax, okay? Come on," he smiles down at her. "We're missing the movie."

Remy is agreeing with Scott way too much today.

000

The next morning, Remy decides that serious work needs to be done regarding Rogue's Christmas present. It's not that the Grinch isn't a very important problem, but Remy has priorities, okay, and he _has_ to have a present for Rogue. That's not negotiable.

The Grinch can just wait his turn for driving Remy crazy, like everyone else.

Since he needs all the help he can get, Remy goes straight to the best source. Which is why he's been hiding under Kitty's bed all morning, waiting for her to come up to her room for her daily email check.

Kitty is very predictable in some ways, and Remy is always very grateful for predictability. It's much easier to steal things from people with predictable habits. Not that he wants to steal from Kitty, but the principle is the same. He hears her in the hall and pulls his feet in a little tighter.

Kitty comes in, flops down on her bed, and then screams.

"Ow," Remy says reproachfully, poking his head out from under the bed. "That hurt Remy's ears."

"Why are you under my bed?" Kitty shrieks.

"Remy needs to talk to you," he says reasonably. Kitty stares at her ceiling.

"Why didn't you just _say_ so, instead of lying in wait for me, _under my bed_?"

Remy looks confused. "Where else should Remy lie in wait for you?" he asks.

"You –never mind," Kitty sighs. "What did you want to talk about?"

Remy pulls himself out from under the bed and collapses on top of it. Kitty rolls out of the way comfortably, like they lie next to each other in her bed every day.

Maybe they should, actually, Remy thinks, wriggling his shoulders. It's a great bed. Very squishy. Like lying in a cloud.

"Remy?" Kitty prompts.

He tears his thoughts away from the Cloud Bed and says mournfully, "Rogue."

Kitty says, "Oh, boy," and drags her pillow over her face. "What happened?" she asks.

"Remy don't have a Christmas present for her," he confesses.

Kitty laughs. "Is that all? Geez, I thought something terrible happened!"

"This is terrible!" Remy huffs. "Remy has to get Rogue a present. She'll think Remy forgot about her, or didn't care enough to get her something, or that–"

"Remy," Kitty interrupts. "I don't think Rogue is going to think you don't care about her if you forget to get her a Christmas present."

Remy rolls his eyes. Kitty is extremely smart about a lot of things, but in this case, Remy thinks he knows how this works. The Angel has probably gotten Rogue something amazing, and Remy can't stand for Rogue to think that Warren Worthington III cares more for her than Remy does.

It's absolutely not true, for one thing. Impossible, in fact.

"Just tell Remy what you think Rogue would like?" he asks. "You're her best friend, if anyone knows, it'll be you."

Kitty blows a big puff of air at the ceiling. Or, actually, at the underside of her pillow, which is still covering her face. "She likes jewelry," she says. "Like, that big clunky Goth stuff."

"Uhh," says Remy.

Kitty makes an impatient noise and flips her pillow away from her face. "Look, Rogue isn't exactly picky about presents, Remy. She likes fancy clothes and jewelry, but she also likes books and movies and those handmade leather boots Logan gave her one year. And like, she wore the torn-up band t-shirt I gave her our first Christmas in the mansion for _years_. Actually," she squints over at Rogue's side of the room, "I think she still wears it to bed sometimes."

"What was the band?" Remy asks.

"N'Sync," Kitty replies, with no noticeable shame. "Shut up," she adds, which, rude, Remy didn't say _anything_.

Except, "Remy didn't know Roguey liked N'Sync," he grumbles.

Kitty elbows him in the ribs, but gently, so he knows she means it in a nice way. "Justin Timberlake," she says, like that explains everything.

It kind of does. Remy can't really argue with Justin Timberlake.

"The point," Kitty gets to the point, "is that Rogue cares more about the _meaning_ behind presents than about the presents themselves. She loves that old shirt because I gave it to her and I'm her best friend. She'll love anything you give her."

Remy gives her a skeptical look. "You may be her best friend, Kit-Kat, but Remy ain't even that," he says. "How do you know she'll even like a present from Remy?"

"Oh my god," Kitty says. "Get out of my room."

"What did Remy say?" he protests as he rolls off the bed and heads for the window.

"If you're just going to lie there and say stupid stuff, then you can do it in your own room. I don't have time for your ridiculous non-existent problems. I have my own Christmas present logistics to figure out."

Remy is a little hurt that Kitty isn't more sympathetic to his plight, but he knows an opening when he hears one. "Piotr likes classical literature done up in fancy covers," he offers, and then ducks out the window when Kitty throws her pillow at him.

000

Clearly, Remy needs some advice from different corners, so he seeks out, against his better judgment, Jubilee and Tabby.

Unfortunately, their suggestion is to get Rogue something completely outrageous, like a locket with his hair in it.

"Remy ain't giving his hair away to no Mississippi woman," he says grimly. "Not even to Rogue. Remy knows what happens to Cajun men who lose their hair to a woman."

Tabby and Jubilee look at each other in confusion. "Uh, don't you mean, 'lose their heart'?" Tabby asks.

" _Non_ ," Remy says, and goes to find less dangerous advice.

"Why are you asking me?" Wanda Maximoff asks when he finally reaches her. She sounds annoyed. This is fairly standard, so Remy doesn't worry much about it.

"Rogue likes you," he says. " _And_ Remy thinks that, deep down, you like her too. And you've got similar taste in clothes and stuff, so you could probably point Remy towards something Roguey might want to have."

Wanda is silent on the phone for a second, then says, "Yeah, okay. Earrings."

"What?" he says, slightly shocked.

"Earrings," Wanda says, a touch impatiently. "Get Rogue earrings."

"Sorry," Remy says. "Remy ain't used to getting a straight answer that quickly."

"I can imagine," Wanda says darkly. They share a moment of commiseration for the rabbit-trails the X-Men go off on _all the freaking time_.

"Earrings?" Remy says. "Seriously?"

"Gold ones," Wanda adds. "Little hoops."

"Rogue has five holes in her ears," Remy says.

"So get her five earrings," Wanda says practically.

Remy doesn't know how to explain why that isn't the right present, especially since he suspects that it actually might be. It's a solid plan of action, something tangible that he knows Rogue will at least like, if not want to wear forever to bed.

Remy does _not_ get distracted by thinking about what Rogue wears to bed. Well, not for long anyway.

He just isn't sure that five gold earrings are going to show Rogue that Remy loves her desperately, would die for her, would steal for her, would sit through Scott's pre-Danger Room training lectures for the chance to watch her face do the scrunchy thing when Scotty says something she thinks is stupid. That's an awful lot of emotion for earrings, even five of them.

"Merci, _petite_ ," he says finally. "Remy think about it."

"Sure, whatever," says Wanda. "Hey, Remy?"

"Mmm?" he says, not really listening, too busy scrolling through his mental phonebook looking for other present advisors.

"Me and the boys were thinking," she says.

"Yeah?"

She's hesitating, which normally would be cause for pause. Wanda Maximoff does not hesitate.

"The heat shut off because we didn't pay the bill because everyone's pay checks are being processed super slowly through the holidays which is stupid, but anyway, we don't have any electricity or heat and Lance said you guys may suck at fighting and stuff, but you're generally decent human beings, so anyway, we're all coming over to stay for Christmas. Like, in an hour." She says it all in one long rush of a sentence.

"Sounds good, _petite_ ," Remy says distractedly. "Listen, gotta go, but y'all drive safe on the road and ring the bell when you get here, 'kay? Bye."

He hangs up and smiles in satisfaction. Who says Remy can't do a good deed? Helping out sometime-enemies, sometime-friends is what Christmas is all about, right?

Possibly, it's actually about the birth of Jesus, but Remy is pretty sure Jesus is in favor of helping your enemies, so that's okay.

It's only when he's reached his own bedroom that he thinks maybe he should have asked the Professor if it's okay for the Brotherhood to come over for Christmas.

"Nah," he says aloud to his empty and mostly-unused room. "He won't mind."

But if Lance tries anything involving Kitty and mistletoe, Remy isn't going to be responsible for anyone's actions but his own.

Piotr and Rogue will have to get in line, though.

… _FIVE GOLDEN RINGS! four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree._

* * *

 **A/N: Christmas Cacti are really called that, btw. For some reason the flowers are purple.**

 **Come say hi on tumblr, y'all! indigo-night-wisp dot tumblr dot com**

 **Additional, No-Longer-A-Spoiler Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **Miracle on 34**_ _ **th**_ _ **Street**_ **. Also I have not seen it.**


	6. On the Sixth Day of Christmas

**A/N: Sorry for the extra week between updates. I started school again so it was a bit of a whirlwind last week.**

* * *

Chapter 6: December 16

 _On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…_

* * *

Kitty believes in letting people live their own lives, especially their love lives. She doesn't meddle.

Well, okay, she does, but you can't just let people deal with their own love lives! Rogue won't even _have_ a love life if Kitty leaves it up to her.

Remy certainly isn't doing much to help it along.

Kitty tries out a growl. Her ceiling doesn't look particularly intimidated.

She's not offended, exactly, that Remy seems determined to exclude her from his secrets. To be honest, though, she is a little hurt.

She and Remy are close now, she thinks. They're teammates. They're friends. They've seen some things, been through some things together. The Evil Car Salesman was a horror they'll share forever. And Kitty will never tell anyone about how Remy had screamed when the tiny snake-oil-slicked man had popped up behind Kitty unexpectedly.

She's great at secrets, okay?

Anyway, Remy is being stupid and not fun at all. She does make a mental note about the books for Piotr though. No reason to waste good advice because it comes from a source that is acting dumb.

Kitty scowls. She _really_ wants to know what Remy is up to. And Bobby and Kurt and _Piotr_. Whatever they're doing in their stupid boys' club.

Kitty jumps out of bed and immediately trips over three different boxes on the floor.

"Ow, ow, ow!"

000

Remy, intent on figuring out the perfect present for Rogue, forgets about the number one rule of Thieving.

No, not "Wear Gloves."

Not "Double-Check For Alarms," either.

Alright, so it's not really the number one rule of Thieving. More like the number sixteenth rule.

Keep an eye on the babysitter.

Many a well-rounded thief has found himself in trouble because he forgot to account for the babysitter making the rounds of the house. Of course, _proper_ thieves just don't try to steal things while there are _still people in the house_ , but allowances have to be made for amateurs.

Jean and Scott aren't babysitters, exactly, but they have the same tendency to wander around the house to "check on things."

And this time, what they're checking on is Remy.

"Remy!" Jean chirrups. It's an interesting sound. Remy wonders how she makes her mouth shape the bird noises.

"Hi," Remy says cautiously.

Jean pats him on the arm. "How are you, Remy?" she asks. Remy's eyebrows climb up his forehead.

"Uh, fine?" he says.

Scott claps him on the shoulder and now they're both touching him in friendly camaraderie. Remy tries not to stiffen and shake himself like a dog.

"We just wanted to make sure you were feeling okay," Scott says.

Remy sighs. "Remy ain't gonna ruin y'all's holiday," he says sulkily. "Okay? Would you just leave Remy alone, now?"

He shrugs them off and slinks away, hunching his shoulders into his trench coat and burying his hands in the pockets.

This whole "being a good person" thing is more trouble than it's worth sometimes, Remy thinks.

He meets the Brotherhood at the front door when they all pile into the foyer and almost cause the breakdown of peaceful mutant relations in Bayville.

Goodwill towards men, blah, blah, blah. Goodwill is a pretty unstable concept to withstand Lance Alvers.

Pun intended.

"Hey!" Remy shouts into the chaos that is the young mutants trying to assemble into battle positions. The Brotherhood (minus one St. John Allerdyce) pauses just inside the door, looking both bemused and alarmed. Wanda leads the pack, arms crossed under her breasts in a way that looks deliberate. Remy rolls his eyes and reminds himself that she's only seventeen. Seventeen year olds do weird crap all the time.

Possibly, she just wants an excuse to punch someone. Getting them to stare at her boobs is probably a surefire way to accomplish that.

"X-Men!" Remy says. "What's going on?"

"The Brotherhood is invading!" Ray says, gesturing with one electric-crackling hand. He looks like he wants to comment on Remy's relative intelligence for questioning the obvious, but fortunately restrains himself. Remy would hate to have to beat him up and drop him in a swamp somewhere.

" _Non_ ," he says. "They're guests."

They're all quiet for a moment and then they explode.

"WHAT?"

"Who invited them?"

"You can't just–"

" _Remy_!"

"Hey!" he yells again, glaring at the little group. Rahne and Jamie quiet down immediately. Sam, Ray, and Roberto grumble a little more, but Remy glares harder and they shut up.

"First," he says, "nobody invited them. They invited themselves, but that's okay, 'cause they aren't gonna be any trouble. Right?" He directs this, pointedly, to Wanda.

Wanda nods. "No trouble," she agrees, pleasantly, for Wanda. That's terrifying, but Remy doesn't have time to deal with Wanda's issues right now, so he'll have to put a pin in it for later.

Or better yet, warn Rogue and make it her problem.

"See?" he says to the kids.

"But why are they _here_?" Sam asks.

Remy throws his hands into the air. "Because it's Christmas, Sam! Try and find a little goodwill, would you? Actually," he gives Sam a puzzled look. "Aren't you supposed to be going home?"

"Mom's picking me up in an hour," Sam admits.

Remy hollers, "Then why do you even care?" and stomps away. The young X-Men glance at each other and then shrug, stepping out of the way. The Brotherhood walks through the foyer.

Well, they stomp through the foyer. Their boots aren't made for walking.

Remy leads them to the kitchen.

"Where's John?" he asks.

"Canada," Wanda answers, which doesn't explain what Remy really wants to know: namely, why isn't John here, but also does explain a lot.

John is John. He makes no sense, and it's easier not to try sometimes.

"Okay," Remy says. "Well, try and stay out of trouble, okay? Remy don't have time for any," he waves his hand, "shenanigans."

"Hey," Pietro says, somehow managing to look offended at the suggestion, even though shenanigans are basically the bread and butter of the Brotherhood.

Remy points a finger at him. "Remy means it," he says sternly. "Behave."

"They will," Freddy says, which is honestly more promising than if any of the others had made a similar promise. Remy trusts Freddy, at least to _try_ and behave, and that's all Remy is asking for here.

"Great," he says. "Now go find some empty rooms or something. Kitty's," he waves his hand again, "around. She'll sort y'all out."

"What are you doing?" Wanda calls after him as he wanders away.

"Stuff," he answers, and leaves them in the kitchen. They should be fine for an hour or two, giving Remy time to sort out at least one of his Rogue-related issues.

Remy is tired of feeling sorry for himself, so the only thing to do is take a chance. Tell Rogue exactly how he feels, and hope for a miracle.

Ha. Yeah, right. Like honestly telling someone how you feel about them has ever worked for _anyone_.

No, Remy will stick with tried and true methods.

Flowers. Chocolate. Love notes written in his own blood.

Remy pauses and reconsiders that last one. Probably it's best not to use ideas that worked on Belladonna Bordeaux. She found blood notes romantic, but _she_ is an assassin, so who knows what's going on in her head. Rogue probably prefers love notes written in pen.

Or, Remy grins. Maybe no note is necessary. Remy will just leave a card. The right card can say everything for him.

Now what kind of chocolate does Roguey like?

That's a rhetorical question. Remy knows what kind of chocolate Rogue likes. Remy is a professional, okay, and he stalked these people for like a year. Part of stalking someone is knowing their favorite chocolate. Rogue likes those chocolate truffles, the ones that are all dark and bitter on the outside and cool creamy sweet mush on the inside.

So far, Remy has refrained from pointing out the parallels to Rogue. Maybe this could be the time to do so. Let Rogue know that he sees past all the hard anger she wears as a shield to the sweet heart and beautiful girl she really is.

Remy muses on packaging on his way to the garage. Should there be a ribbon? Maybe a pre-tied bow? Remy knows his strengths, and ribbon tying isn't one of them.

He walks into the middle of trouble before he knows that he should be trying to escape.

That seems to be the current theme of his life lately. Magneto, meeting Rogue, Apocalypse, falling for Rogue, the X-Men, the Grinch, and Rogue's Christmas present. Remy is not doing too well with surprises this past couple of years.

Not that _this_ is particularly surprising. It was apparently too much to expect that The Brotherhood stay out of trouble for an hour.

Jean is nose to nose with Wanda, which is only possible due to Wanda's five-inch platform boots, and Scott's eyes are glowing. The professor watches from his wheelchair with an impassive look on his face. Storm is nowhere in sight, Kitty is standing in between Lance and Scott with a panicked expression, and the rest of the Brotherhood look like they're trying to avoid causing what Magneto had always called "a regrettable incident." Not trying very hard though. Toad in particular looks ready to slime someone.

"What," says Remy.

"What are they doing here, Remy?" Jean shrieks. Remy sighs. He already had this conversation today.

"They're guests," he says.

"Professor–" Jean starts.

"Ah, yes," Xavier says, like he hasn't been sitting there watching this train wreck the whole time. "Welcome, all of you. I trust you found your rooms satisfactory? I hope you don't mind sharing, most of the children here do."

"It's great, Professor," Lance says. He actually sounds grateful. Remy just hopes he keeps his hands away from Kitty. It would be a shame to have to put an end to all this goodwill they've got going on.

"But–" Jean says. Scott leans over and whispers something in her ear. Warren appears on the upper landing and rests his elbows on the railing. Rogue comes and stands next to him. She does not look extremely surprised to see the Brotherhood. Remy tries not to spontaneously combust from jealousy at the way she and Warren are standing so close.

Stick with the plan, Remy. "Anyway," he announces, changing the plan on the fly, "the boys were all coming with Remy anyway."

Lance looks confused. "We… were?" he says. Remy nods.

" _Oui_. Remy's got an errand to run, and the motorcycle ain't gonna work today. Too cold."

Rogue opens her mouth, possibly to comment that Remy had insisted on driving himself back from the mall on his motorcycle just yesterday, despite the similarly freezing temperatures, but then closes it slowly. Remy's _chere_ is so smart, he notes with pride. She'd caught on to his plan immediately.

"Okay," says Lance, "but why do we all have to go?"

Remy gives him a Look. Remy's glares might not be on Rogue's level, but in addition to his charming smile, Remy's general Looks have a pretty potent power of their own. He learned how to stare at people from _Tante_ Mattie, so Lance Alvers doesn't stand a chance here.

"Because," Remy says, "Remy says so. Go get in the car."

"Jeep," Lance mutters, but he goes, and drags Toad after him. Freddy and Pietro come along on their own, leaving Wanda facing down Jean on her own.

Remy isn't worried about her. Wanda can handle Jeanie. And if she can't, Rogue can. He catches Rogue's eye and gives a little nod in the direction of the two combatants. Rogue nods back and gives him a little grin.

Remy hurriedly scoops his melted heart back into his chest and hurries out the door after the Brotherhood.

000

First, they have to put the top up on Lance's jeep, because for some reason no one in this idiot crew had thought to do so. After that, they all pile in and Lance drives them off toward town.

"I know why you did that," Lance says to Remy, in the passenger seat. "Thanks," he adds, grudgingly.

"Don't strain yourself," Remy replies, stretching his arms above his head. He's still enjoying the warmth that came from sharing a thought and a smile with Rogue.

"Where are we going, even?" Toad complains from the backseat. He has a pretty good reason to whine, Remy allows. Stuck in the middle between Pietro and Fred isn't exactly the most pleasant place to be sitting. Especially when Pietro is in a Mood.

So, always.

"We're going shopping," Remy replies.

Toad –no matter how far they get from being actual enemies, Remy can't bring himself to call the kid Todd –rolls his eyes and says, "Yeah, man, I guessed that. But _why_?"

"Because," says Remy, feeling like this is becoming his default response to a lot of different questions, "it's Christmas.

Toad makes a rude noise. Pietro smacks the back of his head. "Ow!" Toad yelps.

"Listen you cretin," Pietro says kindly, "we're going shopping so that LeBeau here can get Rogue some kind of sappy romantic thing. Actually," he says thoughtfully, "that's why _he's_ going shopping. We're going so that Freddy's girlfriend back there doesn't murder us." Fred rumbles in protest, which Pietro ignores.

Remy turns around in his seat to level a long, suspicious look at Pietro. Is it possible that the little creep has developed a secondary telepathic mutation? Remy doesn't think so, but Pietro has spent a great deal of time around some very sketchy materials lately. Just because Magneto's domes kept out most radiation doesn't mean that other weird stuff wasn't lying around. And Pietro is kind of like an infant.

In a lot of ways, Remy acknowledges, but particularly in the one where if he doesn't recognize something, he'll put it in his mouth. If not for his extraordinarily high-speed metabolism, he would have died from poisoning at least four times by now. _Since_ Apocalypse.

Sometimes, Remy worries that the entire Brotherhood is going to die from a lack of adult supervision.

"Hey guys, come on," Lance says. "We can do our own last minute Christmas shopping."

"Uh, what last minute Christmas shopping?" Toad says. "We all bought everything months ago, because Pietro made us get it out of the way before Thanksgiving."

"Also," says Pietro, "you all celebrated Hanukkah with me and Wanda last week. You _said_ you didn't mind doing presents and all that early."

" _Kitty_ , man," Lance says. "I need a present for Kitty."

"You do know," Remy says, "that Kitty is also Jewish, right?"

Lance makes an impatient noise through his nose. " _Yes_ ," he stresses, "I know that. But she said that she was having Hanukkah at Christmas time this year, since she didn't go home for the holidays because her parents were visiting Australia or something."

"New Zealand," Remy snaps. He's irrationally upset that Lance and Kitty apparently talk to each other about holiday plans.

"What?" Lance looks away from the road to blink in bewilderment at Remy.

"Her parents are in New Zealand, not Australia."

Lance rolls his eyes. "Okay, Mr. Specific," he says. "Anyway, I need to get her a present."

Scathingly, Remy says, "Maybe you can start following the terms of the restraining order." Remy knows that telling someone else to stop stalking people is a bit rich coming from him, but Lance is honestly pushing it, here.

Lance glares at him. "That was _lifted_ ," he says. "And anyway, Kitty and I are good now."

Pietro snickers. "Oh yeah, if 'good' means broken up and having a screaming fight about it only once a week, then sure, you two are _great_."

Remy doesn't usually like Pietro, which is why this moment has suddenly turned in a strange direction for him.

"Whatever, man," Lance says to Pietro. "You're just jealous that I've had a girlfriend at all."

"I've had one!" Toad pipes in.

"My sister does _not_ count!" Pietro shrieks.

"No you haven't, Todd," Fred says, frowning.

"Man, when are you gonna leave Wanda alone?" Lance complains. Remy hides a grin. Apparently Toad's incessant crush on Wanda has lost even the novelty factor as a benefit. Nothing brings the Brotherhood together like ganging up on one of their own for their romantic attempts.

Toad folds his arms and pouts. "Y'all hate me," he says.

"No," says Fred, "you just don't know when to quit, and it's annoying."

They're all quiet for a moment and then Pietro shakes his head. "Freddy, dude, the sheer irony of you saying that is physically making me itch."

"Oh," says Toad, sheepishly pulling a slimy, mud-covered piece of grass away from Pietro's neck. "Sorry, that was me."

Pietro is about to explode when the road in front of them does it instead.

Lance slams on the breaks and throws the jeep into park. "What the–" he starts, and then gunfire erupts from behind the smoke.

"DOWN!" Fred yells, and then he's throwing all of them out of the car and covering them with his huge, indestructible body. Remy charges a card and yells, "Can anybody see?"

Nobody can see. Remy swears creatively in French and throws his card in the general direction of the smoke. It explodes with a satisfying bang, but from the lack of shouting, Remy guesses that he didn't hit anyone.

Blob rolls off of them and Quicksilver darts away and back faster than blinking. "What the heck!" he yells at Remy as they all continue to dodge gunfire. "There's an army unit or something back there!"

Remy's blood runs cold.

That is a stupid phrase, and Remy doesn't actually know what it means. It's like the melting butter all over again. His blood actually does not change temperature at all, and in fact, he's incredibly freaking furious, so if anything, his blood should be hotter, right? But no, instead it's as if ice shot through Remy's veins.

It's fear.

It sucks.

"We're getting out of here, now," he tells the boys. They look mutinous. Unsurprising, since none of them are the retreating type. Remy himself has been known to charge headfirst into worse odds just for the fun of it, but those odds usually are against his current companions or the Hellfire Club or one time a crack team of extremely dedicated hairstylists.

This? This is a government team of specialists who probably don't care if they actually kill anyone, whereas Remy and his boys are at least supposed to try not to permanently damage people. These guys work for a Snake Man, and that can't be good.

"Let's go. Now!" he snaps at the boys. They finally start to obey, and then Toad jumps like he's been electrocuted.

Which he has. Remy watches the cord of the taser retreat into the smoke. Retractable, nice. The next one flies out of the haze and misses Pietro because Pietro is never really standing still, even when it looks like he is. Joke's on you, commandos.

The taser does hit Fred, though, but he just shrugs it off. Actually, he absorbs it, and becomes even more powerful, because the Blob, now that Remy thinks of it, is kind of like Obi-Wan Kenobi that way.

What is _in_ this smoke?

Remy's mind feels hazy and his stomach is starting to churn. His metabolism and mutation are working together to keep him upright, but Remy knows that it's only a matter of minutes, maybe seconds, before he drops. Avalanche staggers beside him. Toad is down for the count. Fred is fine, of course, and Pietro too, but as good as they are, Remy doesn't like their chances if the commandos decide to move in while three of the five are down. Staying awake seems to be the key thing here. Too bad it's becoming increasingly difficult.

Possibly, he thinks crazily, he has been drugged.

To his left, he sees people in TAC vests moving in, guns out and ready to fire. Electricity, he thinks, because they don't want to kill us. They need us alive for experiments, so it's energy, not bullets.

Well. Energy, Remy can work with. Now that he can _see_.

A card in each hand. Four of diamonds and ten of clubs. Not his lucky cards by any stretch, but after today, Remy might just make up a deck entirely made of each.

He charges his cards and lets them go. They flip through the air and explode in one of the squad member's face. He staggers back, blinded and cursing.

"Gambit!" Blob roars. "Let's go!" Remy swivels his head and looks. Impossibly, Fred has gathered Lance and Toad under one arm and held off approximately all of the commandos with the other. Pietro buzzes around them like a hyperactive wasp.

"Come on, come on!" he shouts. "Get a move on!"

Remy gets a move on. Six more cards go flying, one after another, directly at the tasers. Six explosions and the squad is lying on the ground in various stages of aches and pains.

"Jeep!" he yells, and they all pile in. Remy's behind the wheel, and despite the fact that he's never driven Lance's stupid rust bucket before and has no idea how hard to pump the clutch, they hit asphalt at eighty miles an hour and Lance never even stirs.

Pietro does scream at a pitch that would deafen a bat, but that's fairly normal, so Remy mostly ignores it.

Lance comes to about an hour outside Bayville. "What was that?" he shrieks. "Also, why is Remy driving my car?" he adds.

Remy rubs his forehead with one hand and sighs. "Welcome to the Super-Secret Brotherhood of Sub-Level Ninjas," he tells them.

000

Kitty goes looking for Piotr. She finds him in the kitchen, stirring a pot of something that smells delicious but looks kind of like dog barf.

"Katya," he beams at her. "I am making stroganoff."

Of course he is. What a sweetheart. Kitty almost wants to pinch his cheeks, except that she can't reach them. And he's a grown man, so that's probably demeaning.

"Piotr," she says, pouting a little, "what is going on with you and Remy and Bobby and Kurt?" She opens her eyes as wide as she can because she read somewhere that boys think it's cute and it makes them respond automatically to what you ask.

Piotr just gives her a concerned look. "Are your eyes alright, Katya?" he asks, leaning down to peer into her face. "You're twitching."

Well, so much for that. "Piotr, tell me!" she whines.

He gives her a gentle smile. Everything about Piotr is gentle, she thinks. Especially with her. It gives her a warm feeling that seems to rush to her face. Suddenly she's blushing.

"I cannot betray the secret," Piotr says solemnly, though his eyes twinkle. Kitty sticks out her lip and he laughs out loud, using a spoon to scoop some of his stroganoff out of the pan.

"Try," he says, holding it out to her. Kitty forgets to pout and opens her mouth. Savory and warm, the stroganoff tastes as good as it smells.

"Good," she says, nodding. Piotr nods back, satisfied.

"Good," he echoes. He turns off the stove and Kitty automatically moves to find plates and silverware. Piotr grins his thanks and plates their food.

They eat together at the kitchen counter, joking and talking about how the Brotherhood is staying for Christmas. Neither of them mention Lance.

It isn't until they've finished and cleared away their dishes and Piotr has gone off to "finish some things" that Kitty realizes he had distracted her magnificently.

"Well played, Piotr," she mutters, walking into her bedroom. "Well played."

"Are you talking to yourself?" Wanda asks from her place on Rogue's bed, sounding both disgusted and bored. Kitty pulls her pillow over her face and breathes deeply.

This is going to be a long week.

… _six geese a laying, FIVE GOLDEN RINGS! four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge in a pear tree!_

* * *

 **A/N: I don't hate Lance, btw. Despite appearances. Also, idk if tasers can be retractable someone hmu.**

 **ALSO: according to official sources Pietro and Wanda don't practice Judaism, but their mom isn't in the picture and their dad is Jewish so I went with that.**

 **I just really love stroganoff, okay?**

 **come say hi on tumblr! indigo-night-wisp dot tumblr dot com**


	7. On the Seventh Day of Christmas

**A/N: Sorry that this update is literal years after the last one. [insert shrug emoji here]**

 **Many thanks to everyone reading and reviewing!**

* * *

Chapter 7: December 16

 _On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…_

* * *

"… So that's basically it," Remy finishes. Lance, Toad, Fred, and Pietro stare at him for a moment, frowning. They're in the basement of the mansion, illuminated by the thread light of the single bulb that dangles from a string above their heads. Kurt had teleported them down here after Remy stormed into the mansion with the bedraggled Brotherhood in tow, hollering about Ninjas.

"Are you saying that the X-Men are under attack from the Men-in-Black?" Lance asks finally.

" _No_ ," Remy rolls his eyes. "Don't y'all listen? They're just some kind of top secret government organization that wants to experiment on mutants."

"Which includes you guys, actually," Bobby points out. Pietro gives him a snarly sort of glare, which, for Pietro is probably a declaration of friendship and appreciation.

"So what are we going to do about it?" Freddy asks sensibly. Remy is glad that he invited them over for Christmas. No one in the X-Men is this blasé about potential threats, and they certainly aren't this practically minded.

"We?" Pietro exclaims in affront. He actually puts his hand on his chest like a Southern Belle in _Gone with the Wind_. Remy has never seen that movie, but it seems like the kind of movie where people do that a lot. When Remy was a kid, Henri had taught him the phrase, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn," and told him to say it to Jean-Luc if _Père_ started complaining about something. It hadn't gone over well, but it had given Remy a lot of practice at being scandalized in the most Southern way possible.

" _Oui_ ," Remy says shortly. Pietro shakes his head.

"No, I meant, us." He gestures to the Brotherhood boys, who mostly look confused. Kurt and Bobby look like this is the best thing that's happened all day. Piotr is pretending not to get the joke.

" _Oui_ ," Remy agrees.

Pietro sputters. "I mean the Brotherhood!"

" _Oui_."

Piotr steps in and ruins the fun before Pietro can spontaneously combust from sheer outrage. "Right," says Pete. "What do we do next?"

Remy hasn't actually thought that far yet, but he's willing to improvise. It's his best quality. Well, no, actually. It's not his best quality. Remy rather thinks his charming smile and his ability to pick a man's pocket from five feet away without being caught are tied for "Best Quality." But his improvisation skills are definitely in the running.

"We need to know exactly what the Grinch is planning," he says, slowly, like he's trying not to spook a horse. Not that Remy knows anything about horses. They aren't exactly common in the bayou. Now, gators, there Remy can confidently say he knows what he's talking about. Not that gators spook easily or anything like that, though, but –anyway, the point is, he's trying to ease Piotr into the idea because Petey is already guessing where Remy is going with this and he probably doesn't like it.

"I do not like this," Piotr says, becoming impossibly more Russian. "You want us let you go into compound by yourself."

That is exactly what Remy wants, but Piotr makes it sound like a bad idea. "Remy can sneak in better and find out more if he goes alone," he says. This is true. Remy is _very_ good at sneaking. Champion. He won Best Sneaker three years running in Thief School. It may even be his Best Quality. The others… well, they may be okay as superheroes, but they can't sneak worth beans.

Pietro raises his hand. "That sounds good to me," he says. "Remy should go alone."

"Shut up," says Piotr, nicely. Pietro swallows hard and sits down quickly. "Remy, is too dangerous for you to be going alone," Piotr continues.

Remy grins a little. "Have some faith. Trust Remy, Pete, it'll be fine." Piotr does not look convinced, but he doesn't say no again, so Remy knows he's won.

"Tomorrow," Piotr insists. "You go tomorrow, after you rest."

Remy knows not to stare at a gator's teeth for too long. "Alright," he agrees. "Tomorrow."

The Brotherhood of Super-Secret Sub-level Ninjas agree to reconvene tomorrow night after Remy returns from the compound. "If he returns," Toad says gloomily. Kurt smacks him in the back of the head.

"You'll jinx it!" he exclaims. Remy waves it away as they all gather for Kurt to teleport them out of the basement.

"Nah, Remy don't believe in jinxes." Believing in stuff like that just gives them power. Remy doesn't have to believe in magic. He knows magic is real, and that he doesn't want anything to do with it.

Having Belladonna for a girlfriend will do that to a man.

"Everyone holding on?" Kurt asks. They're all pressed together, each of them touching at least one of the others. It's a bit too much like a group hug for Remy's taste. That was always more of an X-Men thing. Kurt and Bobby seem right at home. Lance looks uncomfortable. Pietro looks like he wants to be sick, which could be the hug, or it could be because his face is in Fred's armpit.

"Wait a minute," Remy says, but he's too late.

"Okay, now!" Kurt shouts, and BAMF! They sprawl all over the dining room floor, bruising various parts of themselves and each other and narrowly avoiding the breakage of three chairs.

"Why," asks Remy, staring up at the ceiling contemplatively, "didn't we just take turns?"

000

Kitty flies into their bedroom already out of breath and talking a mile a minute. Rogue sort of tunes her out immediately.

"I'm serious, Rogue!" Kitty exclaims. "Remy and those boys are up to something!"

Rogue slowly drags her attention away from her book and tries to look like she's been listening for the past five minutes. "Uhh," she says eloquently.

Kitty gives her a look that can probably kill a man. Rogue shivers as it narrowly misses and shoots by her. "I _said_ ," Kitty says scathingly, "that Remy is being all secretive, and he's dragged Piotr into it, and they won't tell me what's going on!"

Rogue blinks. "Remy?" she asks weakly.

"What _are_ you reading?" Kitty asks, exasperated. She grabs for the book, and because Rogue is an _idiot_ who for some reason thought she'd be safe enough in _her own bedroom_ to not wear gloves and worry about touching someone, she has to let go or risk her head filling up with whatever crazy is in Kitty's. But letting go doesn't mean she's not –

" _The Roguish Rake's Revenge_?" Kitty's delight almost strangles her as she cackles.

"Shut up," Rogue says, blushing quite obviously.

"I feel like 'roguish rake' is somewhat redundant," Kitty says thoughtfully.

"You're redundant," Rogue mutters, because she clearly spends too much time with fifteen year olds. "What was that about Remy?" she asks, steering the conversation away from one roguish rake to another.

"Oh, never mind," Kitty says blithely, which makes Rogue want to scream. "Figures that was the only part you listened to anyway," she teases, smirking like she thinks Rogue is just too precious. "Don't worry about it," she adds, calling over her shoulder on her way to the door. "Emma will be here soon; I'll ask her!"

Rogue drops her head back against the wall and groans. Kitty's gone and taken her book, too.

000

Tabby dips her finger into the pot and sucks the yellow-white liquid off of her skin. "Needs more nog," she announces.

"That's what you've said the last three tastes," Amara points out. "It's more nog than egg at this point."

Jubilee has already poured the rum into the mix. She stirs happily, smirking at Ray's amused expression. "Jean's going to be mad," he says.

"It'll be great," Tabby agrees cheerfully. Ray continues whisking eggs in a bowl and adding the cinnamon spiced yolks to the milk and rum. This is their third batch, each one more noggy than the last. After Bobby abandoned them yesterday, they had started adding random amounts of rum instead of even remotely following the proportions of the recipe.

Roberto wanders into the kitchen, moping. "Buck up," Tabby orders. "You're going home in two days."

"Yes," Roberto says, "and that will be nice when I get there. But _now_ all I can think is that I'm gonna miss you guys so much."

A declaration like that deserves a hug, so they all leave off stirring and come to hug Roberto. He is a little squished, but this is pretty much what he wanted, so he doesn't mind. They fuss over him for awhile and then Tabby says, "Taste test the eggnog for us."

They have already taste tested the eggnog. They have taste tested the eggnog so much that they really need a new batch, because after five tests, there isn't much left. Roberto smacks his lips. "Mmm," he says. "Needs more nog."

"Thank you!" Tabby sings. She pours in the rum. Ray and Jubilee submit to this with grace. With Tabby, the path of least resistance is sometimes the best path, or possibly the only path, since Tabby has the ability to literally blow up all of the other paths.

"Hey!" Amara hisses. "Jean is coming!" She's the lookout, which was Ray's idea, and apparently a good and necessary one at that. Quick as a wink, they whisk away the rum and the botched batches of eggnog, hiding them under the sink. When Jean enters the kitchen, they are all standing around a perfectly innocent bowl of eggnog, arguing about nutmeg.

Jean gives them all a supremely suspicious look. "Are you all still working on that eggnog?" she asks.

"Jean!" Tabby exclaims, all affronted innocence. "We have to get it _right_! We can't have subpar eggnog at _Christmas_ time!"

Jean rolls her eyes. "Well, figure it out later, okay? I need your help with finishing the decorating."

They all groan. It seems like they've been decorating for decades. Ray is certain he's hung about ten thousand wreaths, and yet there are still un-wreathed doors in this mansion.

"Now, now," Jean chides, herding them out of the kitchen and putting the bowl of un-nogged eggnog in the refrigerator. "You can come back and finish this later, but we really need to get everything set up, today. The last of the guests will be arriving by tomorrow, and I'd like us to be ready for our Christmas Eve party with time to spare, don't you?"

They all sort of mumble agreement, because Jean has that effect sometimes. Scott meets them in the foyer with an indulgent smile for Jean and an armful of greenery for Ray. He's been banished from the lights for all eternity apparently.

"One time!" he complains, accepting his wreathy fate with grumpy grace. "I short one string of lights, one time, and you all never trust me again? I see how it is."

"Good," Scott says, "you understand then." He grins at Ray's expression. "I'll help with the wreaths," he promises. "Just let me get the others set up, okay? Go on and wait for me on the second floor balcony." Ray goes, grumbling to himself about the existence of a balcony on the second floor and getting pine needles up his nose. Scott directs Amara and Roberto with the lights and Jean tries to organize the other decorations into something resembling purposeful, artistic chaos instead of just regular old chaos.

000

Emma Frost arrives in a flurry of boxes and rolling luggage and one extremely heartbroken paramour, who drops her off at the mansion door and piteously mourns the passing of their relationship.

"But, Emma! My queen!" he wails.

Kitty rather ruthlessly says, "Thank you, goodbye!" and then shuts the door in his face, hustling Emma into the foyer.

"Why Kitty," Emma purrs, delighted. "That was terrible." She kisses both of Kitty's cheeks and beams. "How marvelous!"

"They ought to know better than to get attached," Kitty says heartlessly. She grabs a bag. "Come on, I've got to talk to you about something."

The promise of juicy gossip is enough to curb Emma's natural disgust with being ordered around –even by Kitty –and once she's heard the whole story, she nods thoughtfully and says, "I do believe we will need allies, Kitty, darling. Where are the girls in this wretched pool of testosterone?"

000

There are too many red bows and not enough white bows because not even Professor Xavier's attic is immune to Christmas entropy. Jean is trying very hard to stay calm.

 _Does it really matter?_ Scott asks her. He doesn't "knock" before throwing his thoughts into her head, but over the years she's come to find this endearing rather than obnoxious.

 _Yes, Scott_ , she thinks back. _It does._

 _Why don't we just reduce the number of bows entirely?_ He suggests. _So the red and white are equal? We don't have to use all of the red ones._

This is a good suggestion and Jean has no idea why she wants to reject it so badly.

Scott does, luckily. _Jean, it's not failing. We're not failing if we don't use all of the bows. It's okay._

What would she do without Scott?

Probably murder everyone, honestly.

She takes a deep breath and resolves to let the bow thing go. She can totally do that. Other problems have arisen anyway.

Someone made the mistake of allowing Rahne and Jamie to pick the location of the Christmas tree in the huge ballroom sized foyer, and now they're having an argument that looks like it's about to include mutant powers. Jamie has numbers on his side, but Rahne has more teeth and a killer instinct. Scott gives her a grateful look as she steps in.

At least it's not Jubilee and Ray this time, she tells him. Last Christmas, Jubilee and Ray had gotten into a knockdown drag-out that had shorted out half the block's power. Scott sends her a mental snapshot of Logan's usual grumpy face.

With Rahne and Jamie taking up Jean's attention, the other kids take the chance to sneak away.

Kitty catches them halfway into the kitchen. "Tabby, Amara, Jubilee!" she screeches. "I need you, now!"

They weigh the eggnog against whatever juicy gossip Kitty is about to deliver. "You go on," Roberto says staunchly. "Ray and I will finish the eggnog."

"Bless you, my child!" Tabby says, and the girls run after Kitty. Roberto looks at Ray. Ray looks at Roberto.

"I guess we start over?" Roberto says. Ray gets out the eggs and milk. Roberto goes for the rum.

000

Rahne and Jamie have been sorted finally, both parties agreeing to a compromise regarding the eventual position and location of the Christmas tree, which will be retrieved by the entire group tomorrow afternoon, as per mansion tradition. Jean looks around and almost screams with frustration. The lights are up, but that's pretty much it. The wreaths are all missing somehow, and the bows…

Well, the less said about the bows, the better.

Warren swooshes in from reacquainting himself with the extensive Institute grounds while stretching his wings and graciously offers his assistance. Between the bickering and complaining, they never really got much done with the decorating. Jean almost dies from embarrassment.

"I'll help with the garlands," he says.

"You don't have to!" Jean squeaks.

"Thank you!" Scott cheerfully dumps an armload of greenery into Warren's arms and ushers him off toward the second floor landing abandoned by Ray.

"Scott!" Jean hisses. "He's a guest!"

"He can still help decorate," Scott replies. "It won't hurt him any."

Jean sighs. "I just want things to already be nice when guests arrive," she says.

Scott puts his arm around her shoulders and squeezes. "Nobody thinks less of us because our decorating isn't finished yet."

"Emma," Jean sniffs.

"Nobody normal and not a total snob thinks less of us," Scott amends smoothly. He presses a kiss to Jean's forehead. "Try to have fun, okay? Decorating for Christmas is supposed to be fun."

"… Alright," she says, carefully loosening the tension in her shoulders. Scott kneads at her neck and makes a mental note to schedule her for a massage.

 _I heard that_ , she says.

 _Good_ , he says back. _You need one_.

"Done!" Warren drops down from the second to the first floor without even bothering to unfurl his wings. He glides to a stop between them, beaming.

Scott closes his eyes. "Do you know," he says, "that seven young people of varying athletic and super-powered abilities couldn't complete in three days what you just finished in ten minutes?"

Warren grins. "You're welcome. What's next?"

They're in the family room, elbow-deep in tinsel, when Rogue finds them.

"Rogue!" Warren sits back on his heels and smiles at her. "Come to help?"

She hesitates. "Actually, I was looking for Remy," she says. "Have y'all seen him?"

"Not since this morning," Jean says. "He took the Brotherhood boys out, didn't he?" She's definitely calmed down about that.

"Yeah," Scott says, "and good thing, too." He's calm, but in that sarcastic way he has sometimes. Jean likes it.

"Oh, right," Rogue smiles a little. "Um. Has _anyone_ seen him since then?"

"Why are you looking for him?" Warren asks, rising to his feet and looking like, well, an angel. "Did you need help with something?"

Rogue looks confused, practically cross-eyed. Jean rolls her eyes at Scott. _Honestly, Warren, take a hint._ Scott's laughter in her head sounds just like it does out loud.

"No?" Rogue answers. "I just wanted to talk to him. He's been running around all over the place for weeks now. I've barely seen him."

Jean wonders if Rogue knows that she's pouting. About missing Remy. Out loud.

Warren seems just as confused about this as Rogue was about his question. "Oh," he says, frowning. "Well, I don't know where he is. Do you want help looking for him?"

Jean doesn't mean to sigh so loudly.

Rogue shakes her head quickly. "Oh, no, you're busy. That's alright. Um." She frowns and then sits down next to Jean and Scott on the floor. "Actually, I'll help y'all finish this. He's probably… busy anyway."

Rogue being helpful isn't entirely unprecedented, but it is unusual, so Jean doesn't feel too guilty about taking a quick peek inside her mind to see what's going on in there.

Not a lot, as it turns out. Rogue's mind tends to buzz from all of the different people she's absorbed over the years, but repetitive tasks are meditative, as Jean well knows, and at the moment Rogue's head is quiet, concentrating on the task of untangling tinsel. And behind that there's just the oddly soothing mantra of _don't touch don't touch don't touch don't touch_. Jean withdraws feeling like she's been in deep meditation.

Rogue and Warren are better helpers than the kids, by far. They finish the tinsel in less than half an hour.

Jean mentally and visually surveys the house. Every door has a wreath. Garlands cover the staircases and banisters. Bows and lights and tinsel bedeck every deckable surface. All that's left is the tree. And that, thankfully, is not Jean's problem.

One could argue that none of it is Jean's problem, but if she doesn't do it, no one will, because Jean lives with _heathens_.

She gives them all a happy smile and is about to say, "Excellent work, team!" when Kitty bursts into the room.

"Rogue, come ooooooon. We're all waiting for you. We're having a _meeting_. Don't you even _want_ to find out what Remy is up to?"

Remy?

 _I knew it._

"I certainly do," Jean says, maybe a little too forcefully, as Kitty and Rogue both look alarmed. She sweetens. "I want to help."

"Come _on_ then." Kitty regains her fervor. "Emma is already losing interest, and let me tell you, we're going to need all the help we can get. Girls only," she then tells Scott, who steps back, bemused, as Kitty hustles Jean and Rogue out of the family room.

"So," Warren says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Does Rogue ever ask about me when I'm not around here?"

Scott highly doubts that Rogue even remembers Warren exists when he's not around here, but he doesn't say that. "Sometimes," he lies, vaguely.

"Yeah?" Warren looks pleased.

Oops.

000

Remy runs into Emma in the hallway and they enjoy a nice moment of mutual loathing.

"Remy LeBeau," Emma says, because she's actually the villain from a James Bond film now that Remy thinks about it.

"Hello," he says, because he's waited too long to say anything else and still have it sound cool. Emma smirks because she wins.

"What are you and that gang of acne-ridden adolescents up to?" she asks. Apparently they're skipping the usual banter today.

Still… "Acne-ridden?" Remy reproves.

Emma pauses. "Alright, that may be a bit harsh. The state of their skin has nothing to do with their relative stupidity and general uselessness."

Remy's not sure why she thinks this is any nicer to say, but she's already moved on, and it's keep up or shut up with Emma Frost.

"But what _are_ you up to, Remy?" she pouts. Emma's pout had been known to slay lesser men, but rumor has it that the power of true love can protect you, and it must be true, because all Remy feels is a vague twinge of unease. He shakes his head at Emma.

"Not telling, _belle_ ," he says.

"Not even for me?" she asks, pouting harder.

Remy rolls his eyes. " _Non_. Read Remy's mind if you want to know so bad."

Emma scowls. Better telepaths than Emma Frost have given themselves migraines trying to read Remy's mind. Come to think of it, maybe that's why Jean always seems annoyed with Remy.

Anyway, Remy thinks that having a mind hard for telepaths to spy into is probably one of his Best Qualities.

Emma narrows her eyes at him, cold and hard. "We'll find out, Remy LeBeau. We will find out." She whirls away in a spiral of white, fur cape dramatically drifting as much as fur can drift. She sweeps down the hall, but curiously not down the stairs to the family room where the rest of the X-Men and their various friends and not-friends-but-it's-Christmas acquaintances are gathered to literally roast chestnuts and sing Christmas carols.

Honestly, the X-Men hardly even seem like real people a lot of the time.

Emma sweeps off down another hallway instead of joining the family. "We?" Remy asks the walls.

 _Oui_ , his brain snickers in agreement.

You don't have time to deal with Emma, he tells himself sternly. You're breaking into the commando base and finding a present for Rogue tomorrow. You're swamped.

Rogue… what to get Rogue? He makes a list in his head of all the things he knows for certain Rogue likes.

Black. See-through shirts. Chocolate. Leather. Leather boots. Books with half-naked men on the cover. Angry music that hurts Remy's head. Kitty. Kurt. Sometimes Jean. Warren Worthington III. Baking cookies. Not Remy.

Okay, so he's not entirely sure about that last one, but all the signs are pointing that way. Rogue has hardly spoken to Remy at all in the past few weeks. Even more so since that seagull arrived.

Remy's not paranoid, but coincidences are things that happen to other people. He is aware that Warren is the most conventionally attractive man in any given room at least 95% of the time. And Warren isn't a thief. Or painfully suspicious of people who are supposed to be his teammates. Or unhealthily attached to his trench coat.

Also, as far as Remy knows, Warren has never kidnapped Rogue and taken her to Louisiana in the cargo car of a train.

Warren is pretty boring, honestly. Remy doesn't know what Rogue sees in him.

He glumly shuffles his third-to-last deck of cards with one hand and plods on down the stairs for another of Xavier's "bonding times." He can already hear the singing.

It's terrible. They're all terrible. Not a single one of them can carry a tune in a basket, not even Rogue, who Remy would follow to hell and back. Except if she's singing.

He's in the middle of inventing an excuse for holing up in his room with cotton stuffed in his ears –should Scott come looking for him all "concerned" again –when the singing breaks off and Rogue's voice cuts through the rest, shrieking, "LOGAN!"

Aw, dang it. Logan's home.

Okay, so the thing is, Remy likes Logan. Logan is probably the one of the only sane people in this mansion half the time, and Remy can appreciate that in a man. Especially when the other Only Sane Person is Remy himself. Added to the fact that Logan is funny and growly and has kicked Sabertooth all up and down the tri-state area on more than one occasion since Remy met them both, and he's got a few reasons to be quite fond of Wolvie.

The sentiment does not go both ways. Most days, Logan seems to just barely tolerate Remy's presence in the mansion. And whenever he sees Remy with Rogue he gets all growly and snarly. You'd think it would be hard to tell the difference, but trust Remy, this is a very particular kind of snarly.

If Remy didn't know better, he'd think Wolvie is still holding a grudge about that little field trip Remy and Roguey took to Louisiana two years ago.

Remy's given up on trying to make Logan like him, but he's not giving up on winning over Rogue, so Logan is just going to have to lump it this year. If that means that Remy's gotta find some way to keep Logan distracted for the entire holiday season, then, well.

Remy is _great_ at distractions.

He might even say it's his Best Quality.

000

Roberto is maaaaaaaaybe a leeeeeetle tipsy. "More nog!" he cheers.

"No," says Ray, who is not a happy imbiber. "There is enough nog." He speaks very precisely, which is how Roberto knows he's utterly smashed.

Jean is going to be furious.

… _seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, FIVE GOLDEN RINGS! four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge in a pear tree!_

* * *

 **A/N: I sincerely hope the timeline isn't screwed up because to be honest, I can't even tell anymore.**

 **Additional, No-Longer-A-Spoiler Disclaimer: Still don't own** _ **Men-in-Black**_ **.**


	8. On the Eighth Day of Christmas

**A/N: Hey y'all, I'm sorry this fic fails the Bechdel test so hard, but uh.**

 **ALSO: Thank you so much for all of y'all's incredible patience, and I hope that you enjoy this chapter if you're still sticking with this fic! I have just finished my final semester of undergraduate university, so this year has been very stressful and all of my writing has been focused on finishing a huge original writing piece for a final project, so I haven't been writing any fanfiction at all.**

 **That being said, I am posting this chapter now and also letting y'all know that Chapter 9 will be coming ASAP. Thanks guys, I love y'all.**

* * *

Chapter 8: December 16 and 17

 _On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…_

* * *

Kitty whips around to face the girls squeezed onto Rogue's bed and gestures dramatically. "Thank you for coming. I'm sure you're wondering why I've gathered you all here today."

Wanda stands up and starts for the door. Kitty phases through her and solidifies before she can reach for the handle. "Nope!" Kitty says, throwing up her hands. "You're gonna hear me out."

Wanda looks incredulous, possibly because Wanda Maximoff is Wanda Maximoff, and don't you ever forget it. Her power is so off the scale ridiculous that just being in the same room as her feels like drinking a 5-Hour Energy. She's sharing a room with Pietro in the mansion because she gets nightmares and Pietro is the only person fast enough to dodge when she wakes up slinging hexes.

Kitty stares her down and taps her tiny foot until Wanda backs up and sits down next to Rogue. "Whatever," she mutters.

"As I was saying," Kitty starts.

"Why is everyone sitting on _my_ bed?" Rogue interrupts, crossing her arms over her chest. She looks grumpy, which is kind of Rogue's thing. She must have just been getting to a good part in _The Roguish Rake's Revenge_ when Kitty stole it.

Accidentally, of course.

"Focus, people!" Kitty claps her hands and ignores the eye rolls she receives in return. "We have a mystery to solve!"

"Whaaaaat?" Tabby groans. "I could be making eggnog, so this better be good."

"Remy is up to something," Kitty says, which gets everyone's attention. There are a few things that will always get Jubilee, Tabby, Amara, and Rogue interested in the same topic: hot guys, explosions, and a high likelihood of someone getting in trouble with the Professor. Remy just so happens to hit every one of those points.

"He and Piotr and Kurt and Bobby have been sneaking around for days, and now they've dragged the Brotherhood boys into whatever it is they're doing."

"And you need to know what that is… why?" Wanda asks, picking at her nail polish. Kitty gives her an annoyed look.

"Because! We're a team! We're friends! I hate it when people keep secrets from me! Us. We shouldn't keep secrets!"

"What if it's Christmas secrets, Kitty?" Rogue asks tiredly. "They could be planning something for the Institute celebration."

"The _Brotherhood_?"

Rogue frowns, because that's a good point. Kitty congratulates herself for it and then gets back on task. "Listen, I know I sound crazy, but I swear, Remy is hiding something big. And I think we should find out what it is! Who's with me?" She looks around at all of them and holds out her hand like she's asking them to dance.

"Count me out," Wanda says, standing up and strolling out the door without a backwards glance. This is somewhat disheartening, but Kitty gives the rest of them a hopeful look and Rogue rolls her eyes but gets up to join her.

"Stop it with the hand thing," she orders, and Kitty obeys because small victories. Rogue sighs. "I guess I do want to know where Remy's been all week," she says.

Of course she does. Kitty bites her tongue before she can scoff about Rogue's painfully obvious pining. Maybe she should mention that Remy is doing basically the exact same thing, no matter what he's been up to lately. But no, she can't. For one thing, Rogue probably wouldn't believe it, because Rogue is not someone who takes other people's word for anything.

For another, where's the romance in that?

"So? You in?" she asks.

"Fine," Rogue agrees, grudgingly. Emma stands up, shrugging.

"I suppose I might as well assist. There isn't much else to do around Bayville."

"Sure, why not?" Tabby laughs. She leans back on the heels of her hands. "We'll help." She's answered for Amara and Jubilee too, but neither of them argue.

"Okay," says Rahne.

Kitty had sort of forgotten Rahne was here, too. "Right!" she says, and then turns expectantly to Jean, who is sitting lost in thought.

"Jean?" she prompts.

Slowly, Jean nods. "Yes," she says. "We need to know what he's planning." She looks up. "Count me in."

"Yes!" Kitty punches the air and scrambles for the boxes on her bed. "Okay, so I call the first meeting of the Sisterhood of the Super Cute Matching Candy Cane Sweaters to order right now!"

Rogue looks vaguely ill. "The what?"

"Taaa-daaa!" From the boxes, Kitty produces a series of white and red and silver sweaters –soft, fluffy, and sporting candy cane decals in all their glittering glory. No one jumps up to grab one, so Kitty hands them out.

"Oh my god," Jubilee laughs gleefully. She and Amara and Tabby throw their sweaters on and start posing in Kitty's mirror.

"I'm not wearing this," Emma informs her.

This is not unexpected, honestly.

"We'll work on it," Kitty promises. She pulls her own sweater on and nods in satisfaction. "Time to get started, girls."

They have work to do.

000

Logan isn't exactly a fan of Christmas. Everyone is real cheerful and jolly and all that, sure, but they're also more likely to pay attention to strangers, which in Logan's experience is rarely a good thing.

Logan's as strange as they come.

Christmas is also when Chuck stops letting Logan ride around forgetting what he can't remember and makes him come home. From September to December, Logan is free to come and go as he pleases, but as soon as the holiday season starts, it's all phone calls from Stripes and psychic admonishments from Chuck and Storm leaving mildly reproving messages on his voicemail until he can't take it anymore and finds himself back in Bayville.

The X-Men are a sneaky bunch, Logan admits.

"Come in, Logan!"

And Charles Xavier is the sneakiest one of all. Logan fixes a scowl on his face before obeying the summons and entering the professor's office. Chuck isn't fooled. F…reaking telepaths.

Logan censors that, because the last conversation he and Chuck had about swearing was embarrassing for both of them.

Chuck beams at him and says, "Welcome home, old friend."

"You said that yesterday," Logan says sourly. "When I first got here."

"Ah, yes, but it's still true," Chuck replies, easy, kind. He's not even faking it. Charles Xavier really is that genuinely pleased to see Logan. He's obviously nuts, but Logan kind of owes him, so he won't go around saying that out loud.

"And I _do_ appreciate that," Xavier says, smile only broadening at Logan's deepened scowl.

"Stay outta my head, Chuck," he groans.

Xavier chuckles and asks, "How are you, Logan?"

"Fine," he grumbles. "Been on the road for a few days. Tired."

Chuck steeples his hands and nods. "I imagine so. Please do rest up before you begin terrorizing the bloom of youth out of the children's faces again."

"Hey," Logan protests half-heartedly.

"You do and you know it," Chuck says. "Poor Monsieur LeBeau wouldn't even come inside to sleep the last time you were here. He slept in Ororo's greenhouse."

Logan suspects that Remy sleeping in the greenhouse actually had more to do with its relative privacy in comparison to the rest of the mansion than with anything Logan had done. Gumbo is a tough cookie. He probably just gets tired of the inane conversations the other kids get into.

Although, since Chuck mentioned it…

"That boy ever man up and tell Rogue how he feels?" he asks gruffly.

Chuck sighs. "Sadly, no," he says.

Logan cannot deal with this for another year. Enough is enough. "I'm telling her myself then," he growls.

"Now, Logan–"

"Now, Logan, what? You know I'll do it, Chuck, this is just sad now."

Chuck covers his face with his hands. "The pining, Logan. The _pining_."

Logan nods grimly. "I'm not putting up with it again," he says. "I know you think I should just let the kids 'have their fun' or whatever, but it was annoying when it Jean and Scott, and it's still annoying now. I'm too old for this."

"You don't look a day over 110," Chuck says loyally. Logan smirks. "But what about your longstanding policy on the children's in-school romances?" the professor continues.

Logan rolls his eyes. "I'm making an exception," he says.

Chuck beams. "I approve. An excellent idea."

"I'd have done it anyway," Logan points out.

"Yes," Chuck says, "that's why I approved it."

Logan doesn't stay to chit-chat much longer, mostly because he despises small talk but also because he has stuff to do. He almost wishes he had stayed though, when Emma Frost turns the corner just in time to "accidentally" run into Logan outside of the professor's office. He gives her his most unimpressed look. It's very unimpressed.

"Why, Logan," she purrs, sidling closer than necessary. She touches his arm and he raises one bushy eyebrow in protest, which she ignores.

"Emma," he says when apparently she doesn't plan on finishing the sentence. She smiles at him, dazzling.

Undazzled, he scowls at her. "What do you want?"

She laughs, pats her hand on his arm like he's one of her British nobility friends. "Can't a girl just want conversation?"

"Not with me," he says. Emma tsks.

"Such a frown! I'm sure there are many ladies who would be delighted to converse with you."

This is giving Logan a headache and flashbacks to older times, which is always a bad sign. "Bye," he tries to say.

"Logan!" Emma follows him down the hall to the elevator. "Sit with me at dinner tonight?"

"No," he says shortly, and jumps out of the elevator just before the doors close, leaving her riding down to Hank's lab by herself with an outraged look on her face.

000

Rogue is looking for Remy. He knows this because he just ran into Bobby, who waggled his eyebrows suggestively and told Remy, "Rogue is _looking_ for you."

Remy isn't sure what that particular inflection is supposed to imply, but he's guessing it's something that Bobby actually knows nothing about.

This is unfortunate timing, however, because Remy doesn't have time to talk to Rogue right now. He shocks himself with the thought and takes a moment to reconsider. No time for Rogue? But alas, it is true. Remy can't be romancing right now. He's got to go break the law.

Remy thinks breaking the law _is_ sort of romantic, actually, but he's been told that he shouldn't tell people that.

But now is the time to go. Piotr is sufficiently distracted, Bobby and Kurt are nowhere to be found, and none of the Brotherhood really care about what Remy is up to as long as they aren't being shot at or blown up. This is probably his only chance to sneak out and investigate the compound all on his own.

Piotr had _said_ he agreed it was best for Remy to go alone, but he didn't really mean alone. Piotr's idea of a solo mission was for Remy to go _inside_ alone, but for Piotr and the rest of the boys to be waiting for him while hiding in the trees or something ridiculous like that.

Remy shrugs on his trench coat, trusty as ever, and checks the pockets. Cards, mostly empty cigarette pack, more cards, a ring of Jean's that he'd "found lying around," the deck of cards missing its Queen of Hearts, a pair of Xavier's eyeglasses that Remy really _had_ found lying around and hadn't had time to return yet, and his Thievin' Gloves.

They're different from his usual gloves. Only one finger is missing from each. It would be pretty stupid to wear fingerless gloves to a job, but Remy needs at least one free for his powers, so his ring fingers are bare. He'd wanted the middle fingers, but _Tante_ Mattie had vetoed that idea.

He's stalling. In the garage, Remy straddles his motorcycle, parked beside Logan's in his designated spot, and frowns. He has a designated spot. It's right next to Logan's, the motorcycles enjoying a privileged location near the door. Sometimes it just hits him all over again that he _lives_ here.

Remy's jaw clenches. _Don't even think about it_ , he thinks at the Grinch, whoever he is. _Stay away. Or I swear that I'll make you regret it._ He punches the button for the garage door and roars out into the December twilight.

000

"I'm just saying that we need a plan of attack– Emma! Are you even listening to me?"

Of course not. "Do you think Logan is interested in younger women?" Emma asks.

Kitty pauses in disgust. "Um, ew?" she says. "I mean, he'd have to be, pretty much. I doubt there are that many women as old as he is. But why would you even ask that?"

Emma just hums.

"Ewww!" Kitty shrieks. "Emma!"

"Can _you_ read minds now, Kit-Kat?" Emma asks, amused. She doesn't look at all sorry.

"It's _Logan_!" Kitty wails. "You can't… _seduce_ Logan!"

"Says who?"

"Common decency!"

"Professor Xavier is sending us all out to fetch the Christmas tree later tonight, isn't he?"

"What's that got–"

"I'll make my move then," Emma says. Kitty groans.

"Whyyyyyy?"

Emma shrugs. "Men are always more susceptible when they're cold," she says.

"Logan is Canadian," is all Kitty can think of to say. Emma smiles demurely. It looks wrong on her, like a cat pretending it doesn't like to chase mice.

"Can we please think about our mission?" Kitty pleads.

"You could work on Piotr at the tree cutting," Emma suggests slyly.

"What? How? That is… preposterous! And Piotr is Russian, so I doubt the cold will help much. And I don't even want to… work on him anyway!"

"I meant for the mission, Kitty," Emma laughs. "Sounds like _you_ were thinking of something else, though."

Emma is honestly infuriating sometimes.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously at all," Kitty retorts.

"Not really," Emma agrees.

None of them seem to be. Yesterday, Rahne's mother had come to pick her up like four hours after their meeting, a fact which she had failed to mention, so she was out. Tabby, Amara, and Jubilee had immediately abandoned them to go back to making eggnog, and now Rogue is too annoyed by not seeing Remy all day to do anything about not seeing Remy all day. Kitty is pretty much left with Jean.

And Jean is great and all, but she's like, the least stealthy person Kitty knows. She's already asked Bobby if there's anything he'd like to tell her, which somehow led to a conversation about puberty that has left Jean a little bit shell-shocked. It's up to Kitty now.

She sighs. Maybe Emma is on to something. "I'll see about Pete," she tells Emma, "and if you see anything of Mr. Logan's, don't tell me about it, for the love of God."

"Of course," says Emma, innocent like she wasn't planning on sending Kitty mental images of Mr. Logan without his shirt on or whatever. Kitty knows Emma. "Innocent" isn't in her vocabulary.

Or it is, usually preceded by "Corruption of the."

"Where's Rogue?" Kitty asks. Emma searches telepathically and directs her to the Danger Room.

"Good," says Kitty. "I need to punch something."

000

Remy is maybe a bit grumpy. Not a lot. A teeny bit.

Okay, a lot.

Warren Worthington III is winning the race for Rogue's heart, and yes, okay, Remy knows that Rogue is not a prize to be won, but it still feels like a competition when Warren is all perfect smile, perfect hair, and Remy is just… devilishly handsome, true, but also a "thieving rascal" as Logan said a few months ago.

Remy's still not sure why Logan thought he should be insulted by that.

Anyway, Warren gets to spend time with Rogue and come up with ways to woo her while Remy has to be the hero. It's totally not fair. Remy wants to be the one sitting next to Rogue during Christmas movies and helping her decorate cookies and telling her the firelight makes her eyes glow.

Instead he's sitting in a tree outside of the Grinch's "top secret" compound.

Maybe Remy _should_ tell everyone about the Grinch. It's not like they'll kick him out of the X-Men if they don't believe him and decide he's lying. Right? If they were going to kick him out, they'd have done it already. Right?

Remy's done way worse things than this before.

And the others could _help_. If they believed him. Like, instead of Kitty hounding him all day, she could be helping him break into the Grinch's compound and steal all of the man's dirty little secrets.

Remy pauses to contemplate the likelihood of having to sort through literal dirty laundry and resigns himself to at least a small amount of underwear drawer digging. He's not a top secret government commando. He doesn't know where they hide things. He has to at least consider the idea that they stash secrets in their underwear drawers.

Most people do.

Remy tugs his gloves down over his wrists with his teeth and then wonders why he even bothers. It's not like there's anyone here to see how cool he looks anyway.

000

Commander Brock Rumlow stands very still and tries not to do anything to remind his boss that he's still in the room. He really doesn't need to worry, though. The man's entire focus is on the screen before him, hungrily eyeing the security feed. Or rather, the person the security feed is… feeding.

Rumlow is creeping himself out with this metaphor.

The Snake's eyes gleam. "He really is quite stupid," he says softly. "Look at him. Like a little fly, foolishly imagining himself to be the spider. See how he creeps along there?" He points to the screen.

The mutant doesn't realize he's been caught on the camera. To be fair, the cameras aren't visible. They're exceptionally small, actually, designed for one purpose –to see without being seen. He perches on the wall for a second, then drops down inside the outer wall of the compound.

The angle switches, cameras closer to the main building picking up on the very distinctive body heat signature of the mutant. They had programmed it in after Rumlow realized they were being followed around Bayville by a very persistent stalker.

They almost hadn't caught him at all. It's not that the mutant isn't good, it's just that Rumlow is better.

"Go," the Snake orders. Rumlow and his crew prepare to move out. "And don't forget to give him my regards."

Rumlow thinks that his boss is probably enjoying his villain persona a little too much, but he keeps that to himself in the interest of not being murdered by a man wearing a powder blue tie. "Let's move," he says, and they do, twenty men and women in black SWAT gear marching down the hallway to capture one man.

 _One mutant_ , Rumlow's brain reminds him. _And you've seen what he can do. That business with the exploding cards is no joke, even if it looks like one._

 _Still overkill_ , he thinks.

 _Yeah, and you'd better get over that before he kills you,_ his brain pipes up helpfully.

Rumlow shakes off the jitters and the gnawing remnants of his conscience. Get the mutant. Subdue the mutant. Don't let your boss see that you have second thoughts, or even thoughts at all really. Good plan.

000

Remy knows that it's all gone wrong the second his feet hit the ground. The clicking and whirring of machinery has him tensing, dropping to the ground, and cursing low under his breath. They've seen him. Footsteps pound under his ear, pressed against concrete.

 _Go, go, now!_

He jumps up and races for the wall, bo staff extending. He's nearly airborne when the familiar sound of crackling energy warns him to twist out of the way and land on his feet, still inside the walls.

Again with the tasers, people, come on.

Remy whips a glowing card at the knot of commandos and watches them scramble out of the way of the blast. He needs more charge. Three cards this time: a two of diamonds and a ten and jack of clubs. They explode right at the feet of two of the commandos, knocking them back and down.

Searing pain flares in his shoulder at the same time that he hears the gentle pop. The impact of the bullet spins Remy around to face his attacker. The commando looks grim.

"Hands up," he orders. "Surrender!"

Remy rolls his eyes. "Nah," he says snottily. He presses his right hand into his left shoulder. The bullet went clean through; he can feel the blood soaking into the back of his coat. He backs away from the commando, only to run into the wall with a jolt of pain that takes his breath away.

"Last chance to come quietly, mutant," the commando says.

Remy snorts. "If you think Remy is coming quiet," he says, "then you don't know much about mutants." He launches himself away from the wall and into the new cluster of soldiers, who scatter and fall back like he's a missile rather than an injured and solitary man. He barrels into them, flinging charged cards in every direction he can, elbowing people in their face masks, laying abound one handed with his bo staff.

The tasers get him. It's always the tasers. He goes down after absorbing as much of the energy as his body can stand, releasing it in one final explosion that sends commandos flying and rolling in the only moment of satisfaction he's had in this entire awful, unending day.

He's struggling to hold onto consciousness when the commando who shot him gets down on one knee, impassively staring into his eyes. Remy musters up a glare, but the man barely flinches.

"Mr. Pierce wanted me to give you his regards," he says finally. Remy's last thought is that he can hardly believe these people take themselves seriously when they say things like that, but then his eyes fall shut and he's gone.

… _eight maids a milking, seven swans a swimming, six geese a laying, FIVE GOLDEN RINGS! four calling birds, three French hens, two turtledoves, and a partridge in a pear tree!_

* * *

 **A/N: I just want to say that I owe a lot to other writers in this fandom, because a generous portion of the characterization I often use is based off of the way other people write these characters –people who either know the comics better than I do or write funnier stuff than I do. So shout out to KineticallyCharmed, ElvenMuggle, Blue, and all of the other beautiful authors who have inspired me for literal years with their writing.**

 **Additional, No-Longer-A-Spoiler Disclaimer: I do not own 5-Hour Energy.**


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